Forever Haunted: the 66th Hunger Games
by songwriter16
Summary: ON HIATUS. District 5 is not a place where victors come from. We're lonely, miserable, and forced to work in dreary power plants. So why is it the Careers are so eager for my help? It might be my ally, Corodan Mellark, or my fellow district tribute who has already threatened my life. Whatever the reason, it's almost certain I won't come back alive.
1. Part 1: Before the Chaos

**PART ONE: BEFORE THE CHAOS**

District 5 is a gloomy, identical house, same schedule type of place. How do I know this? I live there. My parents and older brother work one of the huge nuclear power plants. Me and my sister, Meytha, go to school then training academy, where we learn to operate different machinery in the plants that power all of Panem and the other districts.

You know how I said we have the same schedule every day? It's true. I get up each day at six in the morning. I eatbreakfast, get dressed, and leave the house at seven a.m. School begins at seven thirty and ends at one p.m. Then I eat lunch and go to training academy which starts at two thirty and ends at five. We are all home by six and we ear dinner at seven. By eight, I'm doing homework. We turn our lights out at ten thirty, just like the rest of our district. Northing ever changes.

Even our houses are all the same. Just the resident numbers differ. Every five years, the Capitol sends workers to update the power plants with all the new technology from District 3 and to fix any building problems. When that time comes, the district residents may apply to have any issues with their homes fixed. Your house may be fixed depending on the severity or urgentness of the problem.

I don't know if it's the same sort of thing in the other districts. I assume it's not. After all, not every district has the exact same industry. District 5 just happens to be power.

If I could, I'd leave this district and go to District 12. It's a smaller district, but at least people have a bit of freedom (or so it seems). My brother Cairn and I want to escape this place. My sister, Meytha, and my parents could care less about running away. They act as if they're the perfect, hardworking citizens. They're cowards. They follow the rules and don't want anything to do with me or Cairn. But he and I don't get to spend a lot of time together. He's eighteen now, and once you turn eighteen here, you graduate from school and training academy and go work in the nuclear plants that provide power for the Capitol and the other districts.

"Maybe we can get out of here someday, Quinn," he once told me.

"Could we do it?" I asked. "The fences are always on and super high. _And _they are constantly guarded by Peacekeepers."

"I'd find a way," he smirked.

But the only way out of this wretched district is if you're chosen for the Hunger Games. Cairn and I loathe the Games. Meytha, mother, and father (I haven't the decency to call my parents anything else) don't seem to care about the Games. It's just something else they're required to do.

Unfortunately, the Games never seem to end. The reaping is tomorrow. The reaping is a time where tribute's names are dug out of giant glass fishbowls; doomed to almost certain death the Hunger Games willingly provides. This is Cairn's last year as a candidate for tribute. Meytha is seventeen so she will only have one left if she slides past tomorrow. As for me, if I survive the reaping, I'll only have two more before I'm sent off to work in the nuclear power plants.

It's about five and Meytha and I have just been released from training academy. As we put on our district issued clothes, my sister groans.

"What is it?" I question.

"Tomorrow is reaping day," she says.

"Oh. That. Don't remind me," I reply.

"I am NOT looking forward to standing in the main square for an hour straight."

I roll my eyes. Meytha is very vain and very oblivious. If her name was drawn, she wouldn't care. I'll bet she wouldn't last five minutes in the arena. Don't get me wrong, I love Meytha, but she isn't sensible or kind and has no common sense.

We exit the academy (which is a dingy building that shouldn't be called anything but old) and trudge back to our cookie-cutter house in silence. I glance at the number plastered to the front as we head inside. 278. The same living space I've been in since I was born.

"Hello?" calls Meytha. "Is anyone home?"

"They're probably going to be working late tonight. They have to make sure the automatic system is up and running for tomorrow when nobody will be in the plants," I explain.

"Oh, yeah," Meytha sighs dumbly. I deposit my school things in my room and pad into the kitchen to make dinner. I open the cupboard and stare at its contents.

In District 5, food is regularly and evenly distributed to families. We do get a list in which we may mark a certain number of items, but sometimes our requests are denied and get the exact same food another family with five members recieves. It all depends on the food shipment.

I decide on canned meat and tinned carrots. We get mostly canned foods here in 5.

"Are we having stew again?" whines Meytha.

"Mm hm," I mumble patiently. I fill the pot with water and move it to our ancient, rickety stove. Meytha sighs deeply again. After sixteen years of dealing with my sister, you could say I've learned how to ignore certain things she tends to do. Like sigh...every hour...every minute...every second...every day.

"Isn't there anything else we could have?" she says.

"Not unless you want mystery meat and cold, watery, gross-smelling vegetables straight out of the can," I answer.

"Fine, I'll eat the stew," she grumbles. I overlook her complaints and continue with supper.

"Quinn! I'm home!" yells Cairn from the front door.

"In the kitchen!" I yell back. I hear his old boots on the tile floor.

"There you are," he says as he enters the kitchen.

"Hey, Cairn," I greet.

"What? No 'hello' for your other sister?" Meytha drones from the table.

"Sorry. Hi, Meytha," Cairn apologizes. Meytha grunts in return. As Cairn strides past, he ruffles my long red hair. "You need to stop growing, Q."

"I can't exactly tell myself to stop getting taller," I chuckle.

"Yes you can. But if you can't, I know of a pile of bricks we could stack on your head. That'll weigh you down," he jokes.

"No, you're shrinking, C," I shoot back playfully. "So where are mother and father?"

"Working late. They've got to set up the back up system for the reaping tomorrow _and _they got stuck with the night shift," Cairn explains.

"At Plant 2?"

"Yep, that's the one."

There are three ginormus power plants in 5. Since our house number is 278, those who have to work in Plant 2, hence the the starting digit in the number 278. The system works like this: all those who live in 1-199 work in Plant 1, 200-399 work in Plant 2, and those who live in 400-500 work in Plant 3. People who work in Plant 3 generally have more than six members in their family. We were quite close to being relocated to a house in the 400's, but the mayor decided against it.

Cairn sits at the table reading while Meytha stares off boredly.

"What is that?" Meytha says annoyingly.

"The announcements," says Cairn distractedly.

"What are those again?" she inquires obnoxiously. I swear, my sister is deaf!

"The announcements come every two weeks," I say slowly. "They tell us if any new food shipments will be arriving. Anything interesting, Cairn?"

"Not too much. We might not be getting any food until next Friday, but nothing to serious."

"Next Friday?!" cries Meytha.

"We have enough to last. Calm down, it's not that far away," Cairn says. I raise my eyebrows skeptically at Meytha's comment. In a way, she's correct. We won't have enough food to keep us going for another few days if we keep having stew every night like we have been. We don't get loads of food, but we get a good amount. It's just enough where we aren't _too _hungry. Fortunately and unfortunately, everyone in the district is at about the same social class. That means we all get the same amount of food depending on numbers of a family. That also means we're all stick thin and slightly malnourished. Cairn's power plant jumpsuit uniform is pretty baggy around his middle.

"Besides," says Cairn, "we can ration out the food. It won't be too horrible." My sister rolls her eyes as Cairn smiles slyly.

"I'm going to my room," she mumbles. Then she stomps off in a huff. As soon as she's gone, Cairn looks concerned.

"How many times is your name in tomorrow, Quinn?"

"Just eighteen," I respond, quietly stirring the watery mess that will somehow turn into our dinner.

"Good. Don't get any more tesserae. I would go insane if you were sent off into the Games. No more than eighteen now, okay?" Cairn breathes a sigh of relief.

"Our district is big enough that there's not too much of a chance my name will be picked up," I say.

"True, but not everyone needs tesserae. There are families with only one or two kids that can get by on what the government provides," Cairn counters.

"The families for Plant 3 might need more tesserae than we do, though," I counter back. Cairn is silent.

I finish the stew and Meytha, Cairn, and I eat. Mother and father won't be home for awhile so I save the rest of it and put it in the refridgerator. Then I do my homework and go to bed.

The next morning, I wake at eight. Today's the reaping. At two o' clock, every single person in the entire district will be standing in the main square to witness the drawing of the Hunger Game tribute's names.

Mother and father are already awake. They barely utter good morning when I enter the kitchen. Mother slides a bowl of mushy, tasteless grain to me. I scarf it down and head back to my room. I go to my small chest of drawers and pull out my nicest clothes. I put on a white, slightly wrinkled button-up blouse and a navy blue pleated skirt. After dressing, I brush my hair and pull it back into a ponytail. I finish getting ready and sit down on my bed to read a book. It's my favorite and only book.

There is a soft knock on my door.

"Quinn? Time for lunch. Come on out of there," Cairn says through the door.

It turns out all lunch is a lump of cheese and a few slices of bread. Thanks a lot you stupid Capitol! Not that I would ever say that aloud...

"Ready to go?" Cairn asks calmly. His brown hair is smoothed to the side, and he's wearing his dark brown cotton shirt, and blue denim pants. I shake my head and he gives me a light chuckle.

It's time for the reaping. When we all walk out of our rundown home, Cairn puts an arm around me protectively. I guess you could say he's more a father than a brother, even though he's just two years older. He's the only one that pays me any attention.

As we silently make our way to the main square, we spot a group of Peacekeepers patrolling. I've always been afraid of Peacekeepers. Most people here are.

I stay close to Cairn until we reach the square.

The stage is up and the screens that scan the crowd have been erected. Meytha brushes past us carelessly when Cairn makes us stop. We go off to the side. He puts his rough, calloused hands on my shoulders and leans down to my level. It makes me feel like a child. I'm not short, he's just super tall (at least six foot two).

"I'll be in the back, okay? I'll be standing there when it's over. You'll be fine," Cairn whispers.

"So will you," I retort.

"I know, but you're my sister and I'm supposed to tell you things like that," he says. Then he hugs me and gives me a quick nod. I go and find my way to the sixteen-year-old girl's section. I take in a shaky breath and let it out. I glance around. I see no one I recognize. Wait-there's that girl from my year...what's her name again? However, I decide not to ponder this question. I wait for the signal for the reaping to commence.

The bell on the Justice Building sounds. It is time. The doomed hour. The mayor and his wife take their seats onstage next to the two surviving victors, Maelia Beate and Ner Bratcher. Maelia won about ten years ago when she was seventeen. I believe Ner was crowned victor about thirty one years ago. He must've only been about fourteen because I think he's in his forties. That boy Finnick Odair was just fourteen when he won last year...

Oh, great...our district escort, Ambrosia Odinan, toddles out onstage in high-heeled shoes. She's a ridiculous woman from the Capitol. She has a mouse's tail and whiskers and speaks in a high-pitched, squeaky voice. Her clothes sparkle and her hair changes color every year. This time it's a bright, mint green.

The mayor reads the names of all of the victors of District 5. Out of 65, we have only four. Ner and Maelia are the two left alive. Then he introduces Ambrosia.

"My, my, my!" she squeaks. "There are always so many of you! So happy Hunger Games, everyone! And may the odds be ever in your favor!"

I hold in a snort. She's always so cheery. She must be just as oblivious to the misery and terror that awaits as Meytha.

"I am quite honored to be here. It is an honor representing District 5 in this year's 66th Hunger Games. Now, this year, I've decided to swtich things up a bit!" announces Ambrosia.

Is she even allowed to do that?

"Instead of choosing our girl tribute first, the boys will have a shot at the front line!"

Oh, never mind. It's not as if that makes any difference.

"Alright, let's see who the lucky boy will be!" says Ambrosia. She scurries (like a mouse) over to the glass fishbowl filled with names. The crazy Capitol mutant digs around frantically until she's satisfied with the slip of paper in her hand. She trots back over to the microphone and reads out the name.

"Evander Leben."

_Who is that? _ I wonder. I turn to see a gangly, rusty haired boy making his way up to Ambrosia. Once he's onstage, she asks for volunteers. Of course, there are none.

"How old are you, Evander?" she asks him cheerily.

"Thirteen," he mumbles into the microphone.

"Now isn't he a young one? Now let's all clap for our District 5 boy tribute!" Ambrosia trills. We give our newest tribute a half-hearted applause.

"Good, good," she says. "Now, for the girls."

As she's searching for just the right piece of paper, I get a good look at Evander. He's tall for a boy of thirteen and covered in freckles. I feel bad for him. He looks terrified. Ambrosia scuffles back up to the front of the stage. I zone out for a moment, hoping my name isn't called.

"Quinn Delling."

_Oh, good, not my-WHAT?_ I think. I freeze. Did she just say Quinn Delling? I think she did. Everyone is staring at me...of course she did. I'm going to die in the Hunger Games. I am going to die.

"Um, Quinn, darling, come on up!" Ambrosia urges, scanning the crowd for the person all the girls are staring at. I shuffle forward, my feet stumbling over each other. As I walk numbly towards the stage, a voice calls my name. A familiar voice.

"Quinn! Quinn, no!" I halt in my tracks and whip around. It's Cairn. I can't leave him alone! He'll surely be miserable the rest of his life and blame himself for my death.

"Cairn!" I cry, voice cracking. A group of Peacekeepers steps in front of him as he starts towards me. I rush over to them.

"No! No! Let him go!" I screech hysterically, trying to break through the barrier.

"Quinn! Quinn! No, let me through!" Cairn screams. I've almost reached his hand when two Peacekeepers grab my arms and pull me away. They turn me around and thrust me towards the stage, a hand still clenched on my shoulder. I pull away, trembling, and walk up the steps of the stage, sealing my fate as a Hunger Games tribute.

"Oh, how exciting!" says Ambrosia stupidly. "Your name is Quinn?" Well, no duh.

"Yes."

"And that was who?"

"My brother."

"Ah. Now how old are you exactly?"

"Sixteen."

"Not much older than Evander here!"

I nod grimly and try to keep in my tears. My face is burning, but my fingers are cold. I rub them together nervously, hoping they'll warm up.

As the mayor reads the Treaty of Treason, I glance around the crowd for Cairn. Instead, I see my only two friends. Acton stands upright and sternly next to Tyria, who is across the rope of the dividing section. I spot Cairn in the back, his face blotchy with tears. Meytha is near the front of her section, casually picking at her fingernails. I don't even search for mother and father. They don't care I've been reaped for the Games. One less mouth to feed, that's what they'll say.

The mayor finishes the treaty and tells Evander and I to shake hands. His fingers are bony and rough. Our eyes meet for a moment, but quickly dart away.

Ambrosia and a few Peacekeepers escort us both into the Justice Building. They deposit me in a plush velvet room with dusty windowsills and musty smelling carpets.

I pace the room in a panic.

_I'm going into the Hunger Games. What's my chance of survival? One to twenty three? Twenty four? I don't know...but I know it won't be me as victor. There's no chance I'll survive. None at all. I have to leave Cairn here alone. No one will care except him. No one in the entire country will care that I've died except him. But isn't there a chance for every tribute to win? If I can learn to handle a weapon of some sort, I may have a chance. I just have to go straight to whatever place I need to during the training days and learn. But that means killing people! I can't do that! I'd feel horrible for the rest of my life! _I think miserably.

Suddenly, the door opens. Acton and Tyria step in. They tackle me in a hug.

"I'm so sorry you have to do this, Quinn!" sobs Tyria. I don't respond. If I do, I know I'll start crying. She hugs me. Acton hugs me even longer.

"Don't go away, okay? I don't know if I could stand you not being here," he whispers. Maybe there will be more than just one person mourning my death.

"I'll do my best," I reply. We're silent and hug for a few more minutes. The door swings open.

"Time's up you two," barks a Peacekeeper. They both hug me one last time.

"You're my best friends. Don't forget that," I tell them. Then they're pulled roughly from the room. I immediately crash down onto the couch and sob.

There'll be cameras at the train station. There always are, but I don't care. So what if I've been crying? I just keep hoping Cairn will show. I wait for another ten minutes.

Just when I'm losing all hope, Cairn burst through the door and scoops me up in a bear hug. He squeezes me so tight it hurts, but I don't mind one bit. He's crying even harder than I am, and I'm the one that's going into the Games.

He sets me down and looks straight into my eyes.

"Listen to me right now, Quinn," he says firmly. "You find a weapon you can handle somewhat well and you go win this thing, okay? You promise me. Promise!"

"I promise," I say instantly.

"Don't you dare leave me with mother and father and Meytha. I wouldn't be able to live." He hugs me again. We're weeping again.

"I'll do everything I can, Cairn, I promise. I promise," I repeat.

"Time's up, boy," a Peacekeeper snaps as the door creaks open. Cairn won't let go. I don't want him to. I can't let him go off by himself.

"I said, time's up!" says the Peacekeeper again. "That's it." He and another Peacekeeper drag Cairn away roughly.

"Stay safe, Quinn!" yells Cairn as the door slams.

"Cairn!" I screech. I pound hysterically on the door. I lean against it and slump down until I'm sitting. I bury my face in my knees and cry some more. This can't be happening.

After about ten to fifteen minutes, Peacekeepers come and pull Evander and me to Ambrosia who will escort us to the station and put us on a high-speed train to the Capitol; away from our family and life we've known.

Just as I suspected, there are many cameras at the station. I hold my aching head high and try to keep my expression neutral, though it's obvious I've been crying. Evander hangs his head and slouches; trying to keep his face hidden.

The crowd doesn't cheer, but waves goodbye as the train pulls off the platform. I stand at the window and wave back, taking in the sight of my district. It's the last time I'll ever see it.

We're dropped off in our rooms by Ambrosia. She's too cheery for my taste. It's not that I'm not cheery sometimes; it's just that she's the sort of cheery that gets on your nerves after about two minutes. I'm glad she's gone, though. I'm frustrated and upset and have no patience for anyone right now.

I glance around my quarters in awe. Despite my mood, I gladly stroll around to take my mind off the situation at hand. Everything is so clean! I search the closet for clothes to change into. I decide on a burgundy long sleeved cotton shirt and black cloth pants. Soon after I change, I look at the bathroom, large and modern with a large shower. I regret changing clothes. I really want to take a shower, but feel too lazy and miserable to do anything.

As I'm laid out on the bed, face staring at the canopy of the bed, the sliding door clicks open. My mentor, Maelia Beate, walks in. I sit up.

"What do _you _want?" I snap angrily. I realize what I've said. "Oh my gosh, I am so sorry! That was rude. I just-I-"

"I understand," she says softly. She comes and sits on the edge of my white sheeted bed. "I'm sorry you have to do this. Honestly, if I had a choice, I wouldn't be a mentor. It's just as painful for me as it is for you."

"At least you don't have to go in again," I say brusquely.

"True," says Maelia patiently, "but I have gone through what you're about to experience."

She and I sit quietly. After awhile, when I'm not so grumpy, she shows me around the train. We go to one car that holds numerous couches, a large flatscreened television, small tables, and snacks sitting on strange, towered platters. There are cookies! I've always heard of cookies, but have never tried one. Maelia lets me try a chocolate one. It is one of the best things I have ever tasted.

"Wait until you have dinner," Maelia smiles. She is correct. Dinner is fantastic. There are several courses. There are white bread rolls with honey butter, crunchy cheese breadsticks, numerous kinds of salads with different dressings, tomato soup with basil, noodles in white sauce, thinly sliced beef with a mushroom gravy, and strawberries in chocolate atop a white chocolate cake. I've never seen so much food in my life. I try to pace myself throughout the meal so I don't get sick. Ambrosia chatters on the entire time about new Capitol fashion trends. Apparently gray raccoon fur, floral accessories, bright green and lavender eyeliner, and the color chartreuse are in right now. Evander makes no comment, nor does his mentor Ner Bratcher. Maelia makes a comment or two once in awhile.

After dinner, we watch the coverage of the reapings from all the other districts in that car Maelia took me to before dinner. I write down all the names of the tributes as we watch.

District 1 provides a boy named Cutter and a girl called Dazzle. They're both fairly tall and strong. Cutter has sandy blonde hair, and Dazzle is platinum blonde.

Zale and Vivica are the tributes from District 2. Vivica is a short brunette, but looks as if she could take me down with one punch. Zale is a black-haired boy who looks about seventeen.

I don't pay much attention to the tributes from three, Bronze and Xanthe (a girl!), but the Careers from four, Dorian and Pacifica, are tall but broad shouldered.

Then comes District 5; me and Evander. It shows the dramatic footage of Cairn desperately trying to get to me after my name is called. I try not to look at the screen, but I can hear the commentators's opinions and our screaming for each other.

Phoenix, the boy from six, is quite brutal looking, but Tempest, the girl, is slim and small and brave.

The tributes from District 7, Storm and Kember, don't seem too happy to be chosen. No one is (except maybe that boy Phoenix and the Careers), but they are almost beside themselves with misery.

District 8 produces a boy called Polyester and a girl called Satin. Cloth names, of course.

Rye and Cerys are from nine, Taheton and Adiel are from ten, and Sage and Ash come from eleven.

But then comes District 12. It's quite a small district, so not many pay attention to it or its tributes. They're not known for lasting a long time in the arena. This year the tributes, for some peculiar reason, snag hold of my attention. The girl, Rein, must be only twelve years old. She's thin, but tough looking with olive skin, brown hair, and piercing gray eyes. Corodan is the boy's name. I believe his last name is like a bird...Mellark or something. He is the complete opposite is physique to Rein. He's got blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a stocky build.

Ambrosia evaluates each tribute and predicts how long they'll live in the arena.

"Oh, they won't last long at all," she comments as Corodan and Rein shake hands. "Twelve never makes it far. That's why they only have two victors. And one just happens to be that horrible Haymitch Abernathy, the mentor. Ew, what a disgusting pig of a man."

"Why is he so revolting to you?" I asked, perplexed.

"Because he's a bumbling drunk!" she cries. Then, as the screen turns black, she stomps out of the room, glittery boots squeaking comically. Maelia winks at me as she exits the room. Evander and I are left with only each other for company. I decide I don't want to speak with Evander. I'm not unfriendly, but we'll be in the arena tyring to kill each other in a week. What's the point of becoming friends?

"We have some good competition," he says, "but I'm not going to worry."

"Why?" I question.

"'Cause I'm better," he remarks arrogantly. _What _is he talking about?

"Whoa, whoa," I say, confused. "What happened to the timid thirteen year old I shook hands with earlier?"

"What timid thirteen year old?" snaps Evander. "If you think you're our mentor's favorite, you are mistaken."

"Are you bipolar or something?" I say, astonished with what he has said so far. He ignores the comment.

"I am here to win this thing. I am not going to let a prissy sixteen year old girl stand in my way! I have a family I love as well as friends who care about me. And what do you have? That pathetic brother and two wimpy friends!"

"My 'pathetic brother' is way braver than you'll ever be," I shout. "He would've volunteered for me if he was able to. He is the only family I have to care about and you're not going to take him away from me. And my friends-"

"I don't want to hear any more of your absurd and feeble-minded banter! You better watch your back in the arena," he interrupts. The stands and strides out of the car without looking back. I sit there, flabbergasted at what just took place. Why is it everyone from District 5 is so stupid and arrogant?!

I walk briskly back to my room and dive right into bed. I'm so exhausted and depressed, I cry myself to sleep.

"Quinn! Quinn! Get up, get up, get up! We'll be pulling into the Capitol in about twenty minutes!" tweets Ambrosia. Then she leaves, the sliding door making a whooshing noise as it closes. I open my eyes and climb out of bed. I clear the gunk out of my eyes, shower, and dress in a comfortable, white long-sleeved sweatshirt and the same black pants from yesterday.

I find my way to the dining car and spot Ner, Maelia, Evander, and Ambrosia eating breakfast. I narrow my eyes at Evander for a moment as I remember what took place last night. Then I take a deep breath and go in.

"How nice of you to join us, dear," Ambrosia squeaks. She has only different cheeses on her plate. I glance over at the buffet table and fill my plate with strawberries, eggs, sausage, bacon, fried potatoes, and a pastry called a sweet bun.

"Good morning, Quinn," Maelia greets as I sit down.

"Hi," I reply. Ner gives me a polite nod and Evander doesn't say anything. His eyes tell all, filled with hate. He turns to his mentor.

"Ner," he says timidly, "what happens next?"

"You go get tortured by your stylists," Ner says seriously. Maelia and I laugh, suspecting that he's joking around.

"Ner! That is no joking matter! Be kind to the boy and tell him the truth!" scolds Ambrosia. Evander's innocent act seems to be working on at least ONE person. Maelia seems to sense Evander's true nature.

"It's just a time where your stylists get you get ready for the tribute parade," Maelia says. "You should know that. You've obviously seen previous Games, no?"

"W-well, I was just...clarifying," stammers Evander dumbly. I have to hide my mouth with a silk napkin in order to keep myself from laughing at him. I continue to eat my breakfast.

"Oh, goody!" Ambrosia shrieks, causing me to hit my teeth with my fork. "Look! Look! The Capitol!" She points out the window, her mouse tail wagging like a dog's. I get up and go over to the window.

The Capitol is bigger than anything I've ever imagined. It shines against the sun's rays as if a precious diamond. The sky is so blue it looks almost artificial. The buildings are sleek and stretch up to the clouds. I'm in awe. This is nothing like I've ever beheld before.

"Amazing, isn't it?" chirps Ambrosia.

"Yeah, it's incredible," I remark. Then the windows go dark. We must be in some sort of tunnel.

"Only a minute or two now," Ner says. He's correct. Soon enough, I see the clean white Capitol train station. There are thousands of Capitol residents in the station along with several camera crews. They wave and cheer and jump excitedly. I can hear the roar of the crowd through the train walls. The people wave frantically, trying to get me to respond. I do, and I smile. This seems to make them go crazy. I keep grinning and waving back as the train slows.

"Quinn, darling, that is perfect! Get them to like you sooner, that's what I always say," Ambrosia compliments.

Suddenly, I'm knocked to the floor. I land with a loud THUD! I glance up. Evander pushed me! He's standing right at the window where I just was. He's waving enthusiastically. He grins slyly down at me. I glare at him, brush myself off, and get up. I wave out a different window.

"Looks like those two know what they're doing," Ner comments. Evander does. And I'm going to beat him at his own game.

I'm lying on a table. Three Capitol stylists are plucking hairs out of my eyebrows. They've already waxed my legs, given me about four baths, and it seems they are planning on doing more to me. The first woman, named Bliss, has put me in my baths. Ace and Octavian have worked the waxes and tell me they'll be the ones reshaping my nails and eyebrows (which they're doing now). Octavian is a tall skinny man with purple hair and light blue skin. Ace has strange gray and silver tattoos that crawl all the way up his arm past is elbow and these strange silver eyes to match. He says they've been genetically altered to change whenever his mood does. He says silver is his work color. Bliss's skin is metallic gold and her sparkly eyelashes must be nine inches long. Her hair is a bright orange and pink.

The fashions here freak me out to no end!

"So now we're going to re-wash your hair and shape your fingernails," Bliss announces. "You may sit up." I follow her orders. She gestures to a black reclining chair. Wrapping the plush robe tighter around my body, I stand and go over to the chair. Behind it is a sink that I assume will be used to clean my hair. I sit for about half an hour as the team massages strange goops and shampoos through my hair, my brows and legs still stinging.

Once they're done, they wheel a huge fan in front of me. It blasts hot air in my face for a few seconds, whipping my hair straight behind me. It turns off, and my hair falls to my shoulders. I reach up to feel the glossy, soft thing that was once my hair, but Octavian smacks my hand out of the way. I frown.

After waiting another hour, they tell me to take off my robe to see the finished product.

"Um, no way," I respond. I hug my robe close.

"Now," Bliss demands. I sigh and do as she tells me. They circle around me, making sure I'm done being prepped. They nod, as if quite sastisfied with their work.

"Let's get Imperia!" says Ace excitedly. They exit, taking my robe with them.

"Hey, wait!" I shout. But they're gone. I stand there with noting on, waiting for my head stylist to enter. Soon enough, she does.

"Quinn, is it?" she says as she walks around me. I nod. "Hmmm...Quite thin, beautiful hair and eyes...tall...yes, you're perfect. Come with me." She hands me a soft, aqua colored robe and beckons me to follow her. I slide on the robe as I trail behind.

_Me, perfect? _I think doubtfully as I follow her.

She leads me into a magnificent room. Two of the walls are entirely windows. The other two are a deep crimson, like blood. A cream colored sofa and a wide table with two chairs sit near each other.

"Come," she instructs, and points to a chair. I sit down across from her. I don't get a good look at her face until she is seated. She is young, maybe twenty-four. Her eyes are heavily done up with dark blue and silver makeup that sets off her green eyes. Her hair is ebony with purple streaks everywhere. She has pale skin and full red lips. Thankfully, her clothes are somewhat mild, purple dress pants and a frilly white, puff sleeved blouse.

"I am Imperia, your stylist," she says, raching her hand across the table to shake my hand. My eyes widen at the sight of her fingernails. They must be about a foot long, dark purple, and razor sharp. I carefully shake.

"Nice to meet you," I say shakily.

"Yes, my nails do shock the ones from your district. I don't blame you for being startled. I'm sure you don't have these sort of styles there," she says kindly. She does not smile, but her eyes do.

"It's nice to meet you," I reply politely.

"And you as well. Are you hungry?" she asks.

"Come to think of it, I am."

Imperia presses a button on the table. From the high ceiling, a tray lowers down. The mechanical hands place the food carefully onto the table and retract back into the ceiling. There sits creamy mashed potatoes, biscuits with butter, tomato and spinach salad, rosemary breadcrumb pork chops, cheese covered broccoli, and a tureen of white gravy. As we eat, we talk.

"Now, gor the tribute parade tonight, we've decided, we being Ajax and I, to dress you and Evander in power plant worker uniforms," she says.

"Aren't we always power plant workers?" I ask.

"Yes, but these aren't your average plant worker outfits. Your white jumpsuits will have special light bulbs between two layers of fabric that will glow. We've designed them to look like electricity wires," Imperia explains. "You'll also be wearing the caps that go along with the uniform. They'll be made of the same material with the wires."

"Wow, I comment. "That's amazing."

"Thank you. I am currently designing your interview dress. I know I simply must include something that will make your eyes more noticeable."

"Why is that?"

"Don't you know? Your eyes are stunning. Violet eyes? They are almost unheard of!"

Yes, I have purple eyes. I know maybe one other person with purple eyes: Cairn. They aren't as bright as mine, but they're just as amazing. I guess that's why some girls go crazy over him.

"That sounds great," I reply.

"Good. I have to tell you, I'm very sorry you ended up-" Imperia starts.

"Is Evander also wearing the white jumpsuit?" I interject, ignoring the subject of the Games. Imperia clears her throat.

"Indeed."

"Make sure that you press the button as soon as you start rolling forward," Imperia instructs as Octavian straightens the hat of my white power plant worker outfit. It has a glittering silver belt and black boots. My hair is braided with strands of fake blue sparkling hair. Evander's hair is slicked to the side.

However, I'd rather not think about my fellow tribute's hair. I feel sick with worry and nervousness. I have to get away for a moment.

"Is there a zipper on the back of this jumpsuit?" I ask.

"Of course," Ace says, as if it's an obvious answer.

"Good, because I have to use the bathroom," I say. And with that, I sprint off, passing various other tributes in line. I run down three or so hallways and stop. I'm panting not from the run, but from anxiety. I shakily sit against the bright yellow wall. My stomach is bubbling and my head pounds.

_It's a crowd, a crowd that is excited to watch me die, _I think. _I can't do this. Let them replace me. I need Cairn! He's the only one who cares that I'll be gone in a week. He's the only one who won't move on with his life after I die._

I put my head on my knees and start to cry. I sit there, my throat aching, head throbbing, eyes dry.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said a voice. "I didn't think anyone was here."

I glance up. It's Corodan, the boy from District 12. Why's he here? I'd rather not talk to anyone, especially him.

"It's fine," I say. He walks over and sits down next to me. He's wearing a baggy coal miner's outfit with black smudges on his face. He takes off his lamp hat and sets it on the ground next to him.

"I don't like it here either," Corodan says.

"How do you know I don't like it here?" I snap.

"Well, let's see," he remarks, "You're crying, you're not with your mentors, and you're not letting your stylists fuss all over you."

"Neither are you," I counter.

"I feel the same way you do," he says. We're quiet for a moment.

"So what's District 12 like, Corodan?"

"How do you know my name?" he inquires.

"I watched the reaping coverage."

"And you're Quinn, right? The girl from five?"

"Yep, District 5," I say. "And yeah, I'm Quinn."

"Your brother must really care about you," says Corodan.

"He's my best friend in this world. If he was able to, he would've volunteered for me," I tell him quietly. "What about you?" Corodan chuckles darkly.

"I also have an older brother," he says tartly.

"How much older?" I ask.

"About twenty years, maybe more."

"Oh."

"Yeah, it's a lot," he laughs. "I'm already an uncle of three."

"How old are you again?" I say.

"Sixteen."

"Wow."

"I know."

We don't say anything else for a minute or two. I wait for him to leave, but he doesn't. I don't mind his company, to be honest.

"Peeta is the one who's most like me. He's only eight," Corodan says, smiling to himself.

Emotionally or physically? Corodan is quite attractive, really. His blonde hair is light and he's tall and stocky. His eyes are what really stand out. They are bright blue. Peeta will probably be the same way.

"What?" says Corodan quietly. I must have been staring at him. Oops.

"I-I, um...I-uh...we should probably get back out there," I blush. His cheeks turn a bit pink.

"Yeah, we probably should," he replies, his eyes darting from mine to the floor. I stand. We awkwardly give each other a little smile and I start to walk away.

"Hey, wait up!" calls Corodan. He's on his feet, jogging to catch up with me. "Please promise me we can talk again sometime."

No. I shouldn't. I can't. It's not good to get attached to another tribute or even know someone's name. It's too dangerous. Only one can win.

"Definitely," I smile. The boy from twelve smiles back at me.

When I return to the District 5 chariot, I find a furious Ambrosia and a nervous mentor.

"Where have you been?" she shrieks. "You're on in three minutes!"

"I told you I was going to the bathroom," I deadpan guiltily.

"And your eyeliner is smudged!" Ambrosia scolds, horrified. My prep team gasps.

"Which eye?" Bliss panics. They flitter around me, scouring my costume and makeup for any more imperfections. Evander stands there looking smug. I roll my eyes at him.

Ner and Maelia are talking to mentors from other districts. Maelia is talking to the one from six. The boy, Phoenix, is brutish, muscular, and scowling fiercely. The girl, Tempest, is small, but strong looking. She gives me a tiny smile, which I return, but we turn away swiftly.

"Stop squirming!" Octavian says with a pin in his mouth.

"Evander! Quinn! Time to climb aboard!" announces Ambrosia. My team finishes whatever they were doing and step away. I climb aboard the District 5 chariot, which is being pulled by two beautiful strawberry roan horses.

Evander attempts to pull himself up onto the chariot, but comically stumbles. I don't try to hide my laughter this time. When he successfully makes a fool of himself and ends up next to me, he straightens his costume with dignity that was never there in the first place.

"Don't even think about touching me," he hisses.

"Why would I want to?" I quip. He glares at me.

The chariots start rolling. This is it. My heart is beating so loud, I'm afraid Evander might be able to hear the thumping. I take deep breaths. The first chariot glides into the spotlight and the crowd immediately goes wild. Districts 2, 3, and 4 follow. We are next. I push the button on the uniform. The pattern beneath lights up in a bright blue.

"Remember, don't spoil my profile," Evander mutters

"Wouldn't dream of it," I spit back. I plaster on a smile as the chariot glides forward.

There are flashes of light, bright colors, and screaming people everywhere. I wave in every direction. Evander does the same. Teenage boys in some of the front rows chant my name. I turn and blow them a kiss. They all go crazy. I laugh at the sight of them bickering. Evander eyes me furiously. I just raise my eyebrows and keep smiling and waving.

We pull up and stop beside the District 4 tributes (who are dressed like Finnick, who won last year, in skimpy toga outfits and rubber tridents) and the two District 6 tributes, Phoenix and Tempest (who are dressed as road traffic lights). We are in the City Circle in front of the president's mansion and training center. President Snow, the ruler of Panem, stands in front of us behind a podium. He gives us a welcome and a 'good-luck' for the Games. I act as if I'm paying attention, but I'm not. I'm not fond of the president and I'd rather not think about my 'why our ruler is so vulgar' rant.

President Snow concludes his speech and we exit into the training center where we will stay and train for the Games. Our prep teams, mentors, and Capitol escort are there to congratulate us.

"That was just magnificent!" squeals Ambrosia. "Absolutely perfect!"

"Great job. Those uniforms looked spectacular," says Imperia. Does she ever smile? Or laugh? Ever?

"You did wonderfully," says Maelia warmly.

"Thanks," I reply. I look past them to Corodan. He grins at me and I grin back at him.

_He's planning on killing you, _a voice in the back of my mind whispers. _Don't be so friendly! As soon as you're in the arena, he'll strike and you'll never make it back to Cairn. _

"Why don't we head on up to our floor?" suggests Ambrosia. I glance back to Corodan, but he's not there. Ambrosia leads us to the elevator as I whip my head around looking for Corodan.

We cram into a glass elevator. Ambrosia presses the button next to the number 5. Her mouse tail swings back and forth, curling as straightening as the elevator ascends. My legs feel wobbly and my ears pop. I've never been so high above ground before. The doors open and we step onto our level of the tower.

"Well, here we are! Isn't it just fabulous?" Ambrosia chirps cheerfully. My eyes scan the space in awe. Our floor is huge! There are floor-to-ceiling windows, lush furniture, and a spectacular view of the Capitol.

My living quarters are bigger than my whole house back home. There's a microphone in the corner of the room along with a giant menu. I discover you must speak into the mouthpiece to order food from the menu. I get a cheese, bacon, and green onion savory pastry, which I belive is called a croissant. As I eat the warm croissant, I explore the rest of my room. The bathroom is large and quite modern. The sides of the shower have panels inlaid with numerous buttons and switches. I look at the closet and find it's bigger than my bedroom in District 5. I program it to my clothing taste. I finish my bread and decide to take a shower before dinner.

After my shower, I slip on dark blue denim pants and a purple sweatshirt. I go back out to dinner in the lavish dining room. Silent young men and women serve us each course. Tonight we eat a vegetable cream soup, small noodles in a cheese sauce, a mushroom and bacon salad, fish with lemon, roast duck, soft bread rolls, and, for dessert, a pineapple fruit cake and strawberry ice cream.

"Tomorrow is when you'll start your training," Maelia tells me over the cake and ice cream. "I don't want you to try out any weapons. Just stick to the basics, survival skills."

"Shouldn't I try at least one?" I suggest.

"No. The Careers will go directly to the swords and knives and such. I don't you to associate yourself with those killers. Stay away for now," commands Maelia. I sigh and eavesdrop on Ner and Evander's conversation.

"What weapon should I try?" Evander asks in his sappy innocent voice.

"None of them," Ner says. "Maelia and I have agreed that you and Quinn will not become a Career ally. If you're 'friends' with them and are horrible at killing, you're almost certain to get a knife in the back in the arena."

"Okay. I'll go straight to the fire-starting station or the shelter area," Evander agrees.

"Atta boy," Ner encourages. Like Evander will actually follow instructions. We'll just see tomorrow, won't we?

THWACK! That's the sound of Cutter's knife as it lodges in a training dummy's heart. I look up from my rope at the knot-tying station. The Careers are lethal. The girl from one, Dazzle, is pretty handy with a sword, but so is Tempest from six. Tempest could be just as deadly as any Career. Vivica and Zale, the tributes from District 2, both can throw a spear a considerable distance. Phoenix, Tempest's counterpart, handles any weapon well. It's certain he'll be a Career.

I spot Evander over at the archery station making a fool of himself trying to impress the Careers. They mock him as he loses his grip on the string and drops the arrow. I shake my head in disgust and focus on my knot tying. I see a spectacularly tied knot on the other side of the table. The instructor told me a girl named Rein was here earlier. I think that's the girl from twelve. She's quite talented. I go back to my own stretch of rope. Unfortunately, I'm distracted by the sound of footsteps that come up beside me. I look up frustratedly to find Corodan from twelve standing over me.

"Hey," he greets.

"Hey yourself," I say back.

"Working on tying some knots?"

"Oh, no," I say sarcastically. "I'm baking bread. It's an essential survival skill for the Games, you know."

Corodan chuckles.

"Hey, don't mock baking bread. My family does it for a living," he says jokingly.

"Are you serious?" I ask, a slight hint of laughter in my voice.

"Yeah. My family owns a bakery back in District 12."

"Oh. I'm sorry," I apologize.

"For what? You were joking around," Corodan says.

"Do you want to go to another station?" I say. "I really need to work on my edible plants. We don't have a lot of schooling on them back in five."

"Sure."

We become inseparable.

"Do you want to try spear throwing?" he questions.

"I'm not really supposed to. My mentor told me to steer clear of weaponry and wait until tomorrow or...sometime," I reply.

"So did mine, but we are anyway." Corodan pulls me to the section of the gynasium, picks up a spear, and offers it to me. "Let's see what we can do."

I shrug and take it from him. What's the harm? I throw it at the target. It hits the dummy smack dab in the middle of the forehead. Might not be the heart, but it's still a critical hit.

"Nice. Now I'm glad I chose you for an ally," Corodan compliments. Is that all we are? I thought we might at least be friends. It sort of hurts, but I shake it off.

"You really want me as an ally?" I say. Corodan throws a spear. It hits the dummy in the eye. Ouch! Poor training manequin!

"Yes," he admits instantly, "you're smart and show promise with that spear."

Okay, that's better. He does want to be friends. What if he wants to be more? No, no, no...that will never happen. So what if I think he's cute.

"What about the girl from your district?" I say.

"Rein? I don't really know her. And she's only twelve so I don't really want to. She reminds me of someone else in my district. What I do know is she's very good at snares and knots."

So my calculations were correct. Rein is only twelve years old.

"Is she really only twelve?" I say, chucking another spear at the practice dummies. Corodan nods.

"How about we move to another station? Unless you want to stay and chat with the boy from your district," Corodan suggests. I spot Evander striding over.

"Oh, gosh, no," I yelp. "Let's not talk to Evander. Come on, let's go to another station." I grab his hand and drag him over to the fire-starting station. When I look back at Corodan, his cheeks are a bit red.

Corodan teaches me how to build a fire until lunch. We eat together and talk a lot. Corodan is such a great listener; it's easy to be myself with him. But my anxieties always pop back into my head when I least expect it. I want to tell them to Corodan; maybe they won't seem so horrible (even if they really are) if I let them out.

I notice that many of the tributes eat lunch alone. The Careers sit together, laughing and joking and telling stories of their own districts. Evander tries sitting with them, but the Careers just ignore him and take over his chair when he leaves to get more food.

After lunch, Corodan and I go around to the survival skills stations to make sure we know what we could face and that we're prepared for any type of curveball arena the Gamemakers throw at us.

At the end of the training day, I start to say goodbye to Corodan until tomorrow, but he stops me.

"We need to talk," he says.

"About what?" I reply.

"We just do. Meet me up on my floor when everyone else has gone to bed."

"Are we allowed to?"

"I don't know, but I'll find a way to talk to you even if we aren't."

"Sounds good," I agree. During dinner, I think about Corodan's comment. _I don't know, but I'll find a way to talk to you even if we aren't..._It reminds me of Cairn. My brother's fire and determination sort of shines through in Corodan. We all finish and head to our rooms. I wait until I'm positive everyone's asleep, then slip out of my room and onto the elevator.

Soon enough, I'm on the 12th floor of the tower. The arrangement of the space is exactly the same as District 5's floor, just in different colors and furniture. Corodan is sitting on the couch asleep. I grin in the darkness and creep up behind the couch. I place my face right next to his ear.

"Corodan!" I whisper. "Corodaaaaan..." I speak a bit louder. "Get up!" He wakes with a small start, comically falling off the sofa. I crack up.

"Quinn!" he whines, hiding a smile. "Oh, stop your stupid guffawing and come with me." Then he starts laughing, too. He grabs my hand and pulls me up to the roof.

"Wow," I say. The roof is a giant garden. Flowers and fruit trees and bushes are everywhere. It's positively stunning.

"That's what I said when I found out we had access to it," Corodan comments. We go sit in two side-by-side chairs overlooking the Capitol. We're silent. I have to tell Corodan why I feel so horrible. I have to say it to someone. Why not him?

"Why do we have to do this?" I ask quietly.

"What do you mean?" wonders Corodan.

"_This. _The preparation before the Games. Well, it makes sense to have a training center, but, everything else..." I trail off.

"The tribute parade and the interviews?" he says.

"Yeah, it's cruel."

"Quinn, if you haven't noticed by now, our whole nation is cruel. Look at the Careers...trained killing machines."

"I know. You know, you never did tell me what your district was like," I reply.

"Well, being the coal district isn't exciting. I live in the merchant's side of the district. It's the richer side of town. My parents operate a bakery. But the coal miners live in this area called the Seam. Even though people in the merchant's side of the district might be hungry, there's no doubt that those in the Seam are much hungrier." Corodan seems very homesick. "But what about District 5?"

"It's lonely and miserable," I say. I don't say anything else. What more is there to say?

"Is that all? There's got to be more! Tell me something else," urges Corodan.

"We have the same schedule every day. It's annoying after awhile, really. All the kids from six to seventeen go to school and all those eighteen and above work in the power plants. There's a special school we have to go to once we turn twelve where we learn how to operate the power plants. And the Peacekeepers are strict. Very strict. The whole district has to have their lights off by ten thirty each night."

"What about your brother?" Corodan says. Cairn? Talk about Cairn? If I even mention his name, my eyes tear up.

"My brother..." I repeat, my voice fading on the last word. "Cairn. That's his name."

"Okay. How old is he?" prompts Corodan.

"Eighteen. He'll be nineteen next year." I'm quiet.

"And you have other family, right?" he asks. I nod numbly. I hate talking about my other family members. They don't feel like family, just random strangers we were assigned to live with. And we might as well not be related at all the way they treat me and Cairn.

"My sister Meytha. She's seventeen. Then there's my parents. None of them cares about either Cairn or I," I say. My eyes are watering like crazy now. Corodan sees my tears and looks concerned.

"I'm sure that's not true," he comments gently.

"But it is," I say firmly, my lower jaw trembling more than I would like. "They didn't even come say goodbye to me after the reaping." And that's when the teardrops come spilling out. Without meaning to, I'm bawling. I've held this in for so long, I instantly feel a bit better. I curl up in my chair, my face in my knees.

I don't hear Corodan stand, but he must have because he's taking my hands and lifting me to my feet. He knows I need a friend. He wraps his arms around me in a tight hug, letting me cry my eyes out for about ten minutes. Soon, my arms go up around his neck, hugging him back.

"I'm sorry," I sniff, "I'm getting tears and mucus all over your shirt."

"It doesn't matter. We don't have to talk about your family any more," he says softly. I pull away slightly and his eyes widen a bit. Wow, I must look horrible.

"A-are your eyes purple?" Corodan asks in surprise.

"Yeah, you never noticed before?" I say. He just shakes his head.

"They're absolutely amazing," he tells me in awe. His expression is so funny, I have to laugh. I am experiencing way too many emotions tonight. What is wrong with me?

"What?" His grip loosens on my waist.

"It's just sort of funny to hear you say that," I say.

"Why?"

"I've just heard a lot of people say that. Mostly boys." We sit down again. Corodan holds my hand loosely; almost afraid I won't hold it back. I do anyways and he seems more comfortable with that.

"Boys?" Corodan asks skeptically.

"Just friends," I admit quickly. "And my brother's stupid friends."

"Oh. Right," he says. He doesn't sound convinced. "I've never seen any tribute so vulnerable before."

"Me?" I say, glad he's changed subjects.

"Yeah. You're just so friendly and likeable, but you have depth. Some people are the same way, just very shallow. You have more emotion and are very genuine and honest."

"Thanks. You could say I wear my heart on my sleeve," I reply. Ugh, how cheesy. He chuckles a little.

"You're welcome."

"You're not really what I was expecting either," I say.

"Really? Why is that?"

"You want me as an ally, which considering District 5 hardly ever survives the bloodbath, is pretty amazing," I explain.

"Most from twelve don't make it through the first day, either," says Corodan.

"True."

_Maybe it's a bad idea to be allies after all, _I say. _I like this boy way too much to see him die. I don't want to have to kill him. Hopefully someone else will so I won't have to...but I don't want him to die._

When I walk into the training center gymnasium the next day, I immediately find Corodan.

"What should we do first?" he asks.

"Survival skills like fire-making and finding shelter are probably the best places to start," I suggest. Corodan looks over at the weaponry station.

"Don't you think we should try a few out? We are going to have to learn to at least throw a knife at some point."

"My mentor told me not to."

"So did mine," smiles Corodan. "We're going to anyways."

We work on survival skills until midday. After lunch, we head to the weapons.

"Where do we start?" I say to Corodan. "There's so many we can try."

"Let's start with throwing knives. Could be useful," he comments. I do my best not to laugh and follow him up the stairs to the knife station. The instructor shows us how to hold the knife and lets us throw a few.

I stand about twenty to twenty five feet from the target, which just happens to be shaped like a human silhouette. Phoenix, the boy from six, is at the target next to mine. He seems to have a knack for handling weapons. There are several knives on the floor between us. I have laid down a few so I don't have to keep going back and forth from the rack. It seems he's had the same idea.

I throw a knife, see it land further than wanted from its original destination, and look down for another. There's a particularly large one in the middle of the selection. It might be easier to throw. I pick it up and-

CLANG! A large force knocks it out of my hand.

"That was my knife!" Phoenix yells in my face. "I got that for ME. How DARE you try to use it!" He walks forward closer to me as I cower back in fear. Phoenix is a head or two taller than I am and much wider, too. The instructor comes over, but the monster tribute punches him in the chest, making him wheeze and cough. I'm going to die right here in the training center...I won't even make it to the arena.

"What's your problem?!" he screeches. The security guards have been alerted. I can hear them shouting to one another in alarm. Suddenly, someone pushes me behind them. The person does it with such strength it catches me off guard. Someone grabs my waist to hold me off the floor. I look up to see that it's Corodan. I must've been falling over. He immediately lets go, which confuses me immensely considering he hugged me for about fifteen minutes straight last night on the roof.

"Leave her alone, Phoenix!" the girl says firmly. It's the girl from six! "She didn't know it was your knife!"

"Pipe down, Tempest!" spits the boy. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes," Tempest demands, "yes I do. I saw the whole exchange."

"You need to keep out of this. This is between her and me!" Phoenix points at me menacingly. He barrels out of her way and comes toward me furiously. Corodan steps bravely in front of me. Suddenly, four Peacekeepers appear out of nowhere and take Phoenix out.

"You better watch your back in the arena, five!" he roars as the Peacekeepers drag him away. Great. Two people who for sure are going to go out of their way to hunt me down and end my life. Cairn is going to be alone.

"That was insane," Corodan comments. All I can do is nod. The Careers are laughing. So is Evander. Evander the moron. Evander the two-faced liar.

"Come on," says Corodan, "let's go try a different weapon."

Tempest lets us sit in on a sword-fighting lesson. She's quick and fierce, just as lethal as a Career. I'm horrible, but Corodan definitley shows promise. We move on to archery.

Archery is something I actually enjoy. One year at school, during physical activity time, students were allowed to shoot arrows with suction cup ends at wooden targets. Meytha (and most others) were absolutely awful at it, but I hit the target every time. We never had it as another activity in the next schools years, which saddened me, and I had forgotten it all until now.

The instructor shows us how to string an arrow and how to release it and lets us go. I string the arrow, walk up to the target lane, and pull back on the string. I aim and fire. The arrow hits almost dead center. I grin, happy to find something that gives me hope of being crowned victor.

"Looks like you've found it," Corodan says. I string another arrow and shoot.

"Found what?" I respond, seeing the results of my shooting. Another almost dead center hit.

"The weapon you'll use in the Games."

"You've found yours too. You're good with a sword. Go train," I order.

"Yes, sir," he jokes. Then he leaves for the sword-fighting station.

I stay at the archery station for the rest of the day. Different tributes filter through. Xanthe from 3, Rye from 9, Dorian (yes, a Career) from 4, Kember from 7, and Rein, the girl from 12, stop by for a short time. Rein looks nothing like Corodan. She's short and small with long brown hair and cloudy gray eyes. She is quiet but smart and knows everything there is to know about snares. I saw her work at the knot-tying station yesterday. No one stays longer than fifteen minutes at this station.

However, I do. Early in the afternoon, the instructor sees my potential and sets up different targets for me. He even throws fake birds up until I'm able to strings an arrow without looking and shoot with somewhat decent accuracy.

Up on the District 5 floor at dinner, I decide to tell Maelia about my archery skills.

"I shot with a bow and arrow today, Maelia. I think that's what I'll do for the Gamemakers tomorrow," I tell her.

"Good. Now have you thought about any allies?" she asks.

"Yes. Me and the boy from twelve, Corodan, have already decided that we're going to be allies." Ambrosia spews pea soup all over the table, spotting the white tablecloth with green polka dots.

"The boy from twelve?!" she shrieks. "Quinn, he won't last ten minutes in that arena!"

"He will, too. I've seen him with a sword. If you had, you would feel the same way," I counter.

"That guy Phoenix from six was hilarious today," Evander grins.

"He could've killed me right there, Evander. He threatened me!" I shout.

"That is no joking matter, Evander," Ner scolds.

"What exactly did he say?" asks Imperia frantically.

"That I better watch my back in the arena," I say as I glare viciously at Evander. He backs off a bit under my gaze.

"New strategy," Maelia mumbles, excusing herself from the table and running off to the elevators. New strategy? What is she talking about?

"We need to alter your interview dress then," mutters Imperia, doing the same as Maelia. I am very confused now.

It's me, Evander, Ner, and Ajax (who is exceedingly quiet) left at the table. I follow Maelia and Imperia's example and leave the table, but exit to my room instead of the elevators.

I order food from the menu and mouthpiece and finish dinner in my quarters. I sit, physically and mentally exhausted, in my fluffy white armchair near my window. I don't want to visit Corodan tonight. I'm still very unsure whether we should be allies or not. He is so sweet and kind, but that's what makes me so suspicious. Will he turn on me in the arena? Will he join the Career pack and hunt me down just to rub it in my face that we were once allies?

As I ponder these questions, a silent servant, called an Avox by Ambrosia, comes in to turn down my bed sheets. Can they even speak? I haven't heard any of them say a word to each other.

"Hello," I say cautiously. The brown haired girl looks up in surprise and nods at me politely. "Do you speak?" She shakes her head and points to her mouth. Then she opens it for me to see that she does not have a toungue.

"Oh," I say sadly. "I'm very sorry." She shrugs and glances at the floor. She leaves once her duties have been done. I wonder what crime or mistake she made to receive such a punishment.

_But what does it matter? _I think. _Once in the arena, you'll never see her again...just like I'll never see Cairn._

The next morning, I wake up with my cheeks wet. I must have been crying in my sleep. I shower, dress, and go to breakfast. Only Maelia is awake and eating. I fill my plate with eggs, toast, pancakes with syrup, bacon, sausage, hash browns, and chocolate croissants.

"Today I'll be training you priavately," Maelia tells me as I sit down. I start eating,

"For the Gamemakers?" I sigh. She nods.

"Archery is your main focus now. You've got the survival skills, now you just need fighting skills," Maelia replies. We're silent for the rest of the meal. Just as I'm finishing my first plate of food, Maelia tells me to meet her at a certain time and leaves. I get another plate of food, full of fruit and a few bacon, cheese, and green onion croissants and a honey butter croissant.

As I start chewing the sweet but citrusy pineapple, Evander strides in smugly. I watch him pile waffles, bacon, and syrup on plate. He saunters over and sits down across from me.

"What do _you _want?" I snipe. I bite down angrily on a strawberry.

"Touchy, touchy," Evander coos as he picks up his fork. "So I hear archery is your thing."

"I hear nothing is your thing," I snap. "I saw you with the weapons. You are hopeless."

"Not if I join the Careers. They have my back as long as I score an eight, nine, ten, eleven, or twelve," he says arrogantly. "Which, of course, I will."

"That won't happen. You won't score higher than a four," I insist. "And that's pushing it."

"Just wait," he hisses, "I'm still keeping to my word. You're still a pathetic waste of my time and an insult to District 5. You don't deserve to be here."

"I don't WANT to be here you idiot! I don't WANT to die! It's you that's pathetic. You kiss up to the Careers who may seem to accept you, but will instantly turn on you in the Games. You'll be dead in five minutes!" I screech. "The only reason I'm here is to get back to my brother. You said archery is my thing, right? If that's so, _you _better watch _your _back in the arena."

I take a good look at his stupid, shocked face, and stand. I take my plate of food back to my room with me. I finish breakfast on the floor because I can't bring myself to sit in my fluffy chair again. I have no idea why, but it's more comfortable on the carpet. I lay curled up on my bed until it's time to train with Maelia.

We work on hand-to-hand combat for a short amount of time, but focus on archery. Luckily, Maelia has some backround in archery and is able to assist me on getting perfect aim. She sets up practice dummies that move on a sort of conveyor belt in the floor. Then she throws fake birds up into the air for me to shoot at. I hit every single one.

At lunch, the Gamemakers start calling us out one by one. Corodan and I sit together nervously. Neither of us eat. Neither of us talk. Soon enough, my name is called.

"Good luck," he says.

"Thanks. You, too," I reply.

When I enter the gymnasium, the Gamemakers are seated, eating and laughing loudly. I see the selection of bows and arrows and spot the exact set I've been using for practice. I grab my weapon and turn to the Gamemakers.

"Quinn Delling, District 5," I announce. The Capitol people stop their chatting and turn their attention to me. Maelia told me all I need to do is press the blue button to activate the dummies.

I sling the quiver of arrows on my back, press the button, and get into position. The first manikin moves. I string an arrow and shoot. It hits the very center of where the heart would be. This continues for a few more minutes until I've shot every moving target. I press yet another button that launches fake birds into the air. I take down about half of them and shoot at different targets until the Gamemakers dismiss me.

Up in the apartment, Maelia and Ner ask me how I think the session went.

"I think I got at least a seven," I say. Everyone is seated in the living room on the three sofas.

"I hope I got a good score," Evander chimes in. Nobody listens to his desperate attempt for attention.

"I'll bet you did fine, Quinn," Imperia says encouragingly.

"Yes, yes, I agree with Imperia. You probably did fabulously, dear," Ambrosia squeaks as she twirls her mouse tail with her fingers. In the other hand, she hold a piece of something tangerine-colored. There's a platter of cheese next to her on the couch.

"So what did you do?" inquires Ajax quietly.

"I shot arrows at different targets."

"Is that all?" yawns Ambrosia. "Now, I'm sure you did splendidly, but that's a bit boring."

"Some of the targets moved. I hit almost every single one square in the center," I protest.

"I got at least a ten if not more," pipes in Evander. Everyone stops what they're doing and stares right at him. Most look like they're about to burst out laughing. I feel like laughing, but don't. I get up and pace behind the couches. I don't want to hear the conversation to come.

"You can't be serious," Maelia says, holding in a chuckle.

"I am. I threw spears and knives," Evander replies haughtily. Ner groans.

"I told you not to! Why didn't you listen to me?" he demands frustratedly.

"I was good at it!" cries Evander.

"You were okay at climbing," counters Ner. "Why didn't you climb?"

"Because I didn't want to!" Evander hollers. Tribute and mentor continue bickering until my mind can take no more.

"HEY!" I bark. "Would you two quit it? You're giving me a headache!" Everyone is silent. I don't know what to say. Actually, I don't think anyone knows what to say.

"She threatened me," Evander accuses, pointing at me.

"What?" Maelia says furiously.

"She threatened me," he repeats. "Told me to watch my back in the arena." I march back over into the couch area.

"I only said that stuff because you were an arrogant jerk and I wanted to put you in your place," I say. I turn to Maelia and Ner. "He told me, and I quote, 'I am here to win this thing. I am not going to let some prissy sixteen year old girl stand in my way. You better watch your back in the arena.'"

"But she said I'd be dead in ten minutes!" Evander complains.

"Actually, I said five minutes, you dweeb. But I only said that to warn you about teaming up with the Careers!" I state. The room is mute with astonishment.

"YOU TRIED TO JOIN THE CAREERS?" Ner yells. Maelia moans and Ambrosia gasps (more like squeaks). Imperia's eyes widen and Ajax puts his face in his hands. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?"

"I thought maybe I'd survive longer if I joined," says Evander with fake innocence.

"You don't just skip up to the Careers and cling on like a magnet sticks to another magnet. _They _ask _you!"_ Maelia explains heatedly.

"And they'll be tripping over each other begging me to join once they see my score!" Evander disputes with a hint of obviousness in his voice.

"Fine, we'll see," Ner gripes.

And we do see. The Careers score in an 8-10 range. The District 3 tributes each get a five. Then Evander's picture is shown. The number flashes three.

"A three!" screams Evander. Serves him right. Now I see my face onscreen. The number appears. A nine.

"YES!" I exclaim. Everyone but Evander cheers.

"I knew you did impeccably!" Ambrosia compliments.

"Great job, kid," Maelia winks. Imperia even smiles. Wow, that's a first...

I glance back up at that screen while the celebration of my score continues. Tempest and Phoenix from six each score a ten. I watch the rest absentmindedly until its District 12's turn. Corodan also pulls a nine! Rein gets a six.

"Hey, Evander," says a smirking Ner, "You were right! The Careers will be requesting someone as their ally, but I'm not so sure it'll be you."

It's midnight. I go up to the twelfth floor. Corodan is already on the roof when I get there. He's staring out at the magnificently built architecture of the Capitol.

"Nice job getting a nine, ally," I say warmly.

"Thanks, you too," he replies, not taking his eyes off of the city skyline.

"Are you okay?" I question anxiously. He shakes his head.

"Remember that District 6 tribute Phoenix?"

"How can I forget?"

"He's a Career," Corodan says gravely.

"I figured he was," I answer. Corodan says nothing in return. "So what's the big deal? With you swordfighting skills and my archery, we can take him down. Not that we would purposely kill him, but if we needed to, we could." He turns and stares at me firmly. His eyes are almost luminescent in the moonlight. It emotionally throws me off. I reagain my focus and listen to what he has to say.

"Remember how big he was? Remember his skill with those knives? That's why it's a big deal," he says. His face softens. "Are you cold?"

"Not really," I say. Corodan puts an arm around my waist anyways. "So how do you like your score?"

"I'm glad I got one that high," he says. "Gives me hope of returning home again." Now that's what I'm afraid of. I step out of his hold.

"What's the matter?"

"You just confirmed my biggest fear," I whisper, frightened. Corodan chuckles a bit.

"What are you talking about?" he asks, nervously trying to fake that he's not worried by what I am about to say.

"You're going to betray me; turn on me the second you get your hands on a sword."

"I would never!"

"This is the Hunger Games, Corodan! It's a death showdown! There can only be one victor! How do I know you won't deceive me?" I practically shout. I'm almost to the point of hyperventilating. Corodan is silent. He slowly puts his arms around my waist and draws me closer to him. His face comes close to mine and he kisses me. I'm surprised, but don't pull away. Then he lets me go.

"That's how," he murmurs, his voice cracking with emotion. He leaves me on the roof alone. I stand there in the breezy night air in bewilderment.

Did that really just happen? Did Corodan Mellark just kiss me? I think so...and it was my first. I sort of liked it, but I'm not really sure.

I go back inside, ride the elevator down to floor five, and run to my room. Once my head hits the pillow, I am instantly asleep.

When I wake up the next day, I ache from the archery presentation from the day before. Last night with Corodan instantly comes rushing back into my mind. I know how he feels... and I feel the same way. I have to tell him.

I scramble out of bed, dress, and start for the elevators, but a hand comes down on my shoulder. The person moves to face me. It's Ambrosia. At least I'm pretty sure it's her. The patterns are so bright and glittery, it is hard to see her face.

"Good morning, Quinn! Now where do you think you're going?" she greets happily. What am I supposed to say? 'I'm just going up to District 12's floor to tell Corodan I love him, too, Ambrosia. Don't worry; I'll only be a few minutes.' No way...

"Um, training," I blurt out. "You training for the arena. I think I'm late and-"

"No, no silly!" Ambrosia cackles obnoxiously. "Training is over, remember? It's interview day! You'll be working with Maelia on your image and taking lady lessons from me!"

"Lady lessons?" I deadpan.

"Why yes!" she giggles. Then she whirls me around and pushes me to the table for breakfast. I try to object, but she thrusts me into the seat next to Evander and starts explaining the interview process.

"You'll be prepped by a team of stylists after that," she babbles. I roll my eyes as I realize Ambrosia is completely oblivious to my rivalry with Evander. Evander doesn't even look at me. Well hello to you, too, ego-head.

I grab a plate and fill it with food. Waffles, biscuits with sausage gravy, stew with hot grain, bacon, eggs, fried potatoes, and fresh fruit sit in small mountains on my plate. I go up for seconds of eggs, bacon, and biscuits with gravy.

"Fat," coughs Evander. I glare at him, but choose not to reply. I know for sure that I'm nowhere close to being overweight, and so does Evander. Ambrosia must have overheard because now she's scolding him.

"Evander, I'm ashamed of you! Quinn is not fat. You apologize this moment! That is so unlike you!" Evander scoffs in mockery at Ambrosia's comments. I finish my breakfast and am about to get up, when a sneaky idea works its way into my brain. I smile slyly and go up to the buffet tables. I load my plate with mushy grain and stew. I walk past Evander slowly and 'trip' on the carpet. The grain and stew splatters all over his head and shirt. He squeals like a little girl and stands rapidly, knocking his chair over in the process.

"I am SO sorry!" I lie, pretending to feel bad for splashing my breakfast all over him.

"What was that for? You IDIOT!" Evander howls in resentment. He starts for me, his hands clenched into fists. Is he going to punch me?

Ambrosia scurries (like a mouse) over to my fellow tribute and starts dabbing at the food on his face.

"Now, now, Evander," she says lightly, fluttering around him with a silk napkin. "Just calm yourself down. It was an accident. She apologized."

"Yes, Evander, it was an _accident_," I say innocently. He growls at me and I walk out of the room. I have no idea why, but I start running past the couches and elevators. I need to be alone.

"Quinn! QUINN!" Maelia shouts. I skid to a stop. "We have to discuss what your image will be like for tonight's interview."

"I already know," I say.

"Then this won't take long," she tells me, gesturing to the sofas.

We stay there all morning, perfecting my idea of the image I would like to portray to viewers. She asks me questions that Caesar Flickerman might ask and I try to respond as normally as possible.

"Just be yourself," she advises.

After lunch, Ambrosia gives me the 'lady lessons.' She shows me how to 'sit like a proper young lady' (her exact words). Then she puts me in high-heeled shoes. I generally have great balance, so it's not a problem at all. I wobble and teeter a bit in the strange contraptions that seem to cage my feet like a wild animal. I'm able to walk fine after an hour of practice.

I'm sitting in my room after the time with Ambrosia, eating a cookie I've ordered when Maeila rushes in like a torrent of wind.

"I just got six messages from three separate mentors!" she gasps seriously. "You've been formally requested to join the Career pack!" I stare at her in shock. Me? A Career?

"No way," I say boldly. Maelia nods.

"I'll let them know."

Then she briskly strides out of the room. I've just made myself six more enemies. This makes me wonder if Corodan was also invited.

I'm sitting on my bed in alarm when Imperia and the rest of my prep team piles into my quarters. They take me to a place where I'm bathed, waxed, and washed thoroughly. They comb out my hair and curl it. They outline my eyes in all black and gray so my purple iruses stand out like a sore thumb. They me pink cheeks and purple lips to match. When my makeup is finished, Imperia helps me into my dress.

"This will set your eyes off even more," Imperia says, zipping up the back of my dress. "Now you can turn around." I swivel in my three-inch glittering, purple high heels (called stillettos, I think).

My dress is stunning. It has a hear-shaped low neckline and sheer purple material strap that clip around my neck. There is a thick band of purple ribbon around my waist. The rest of the dress is a sparkling white. The fulll skirt poofs a little and ends at my knees. My eyes are striking and my hair is curly. I sort of like myself this way...I wonder what Cairn will think when he sees me being interviewed soon.

"Thank you so much," I thank my stylist, hugging her. She stiffly hugs me back.

"Now," she says solemnly, "it's time to get you backstage."

She leads me to the tribute lineup behind the interview stage.

"You look gorgeous," Maelia compliments as she places me behind Evander.

"Thanks," I mumble. I'm so nervous my stomach is flip-flopping. All I can think about is how many people will watch me embarrasingly stumble my way through the questions.

"Do you remember what we've been over?" asks Maelia. I nod.

"So what image is Evander going for?" I whisper.

"Humble," she whispers back, a hint of amusement in her voice. I do my best not to snort. "I know, hard to believe he can pull it off. Maybe we've underestimated him and he'll prove us wrong."

"Somehow I don't think that that will be possible," I state. She nods in understanding and hurries off. I highly doubt Evande will be able to accomplish such a task as being humble.

I glance behind to find Corodan staring at me. I must blush, because he starts to blush, too. We grin at each other and I turn away.

Soon enough, we file onstage and take our seats in a semicircle at the back of the stage. The lights are dazzling and the crowd cheers wildly at the sight of the tributes all dressed up.

Caesar Flickerman greets the cameras and the people of the Capitol with enthusiasum. I know for a fact that all of Panem is watching the announcer with his gold hair and makeup. He tells a few jokes then calls down Dazzle, the girl from one.

Dazzle is wearing a pink, tight, sequined dress with sheer sleeves. Her blonde hair is piled on her head in curls.

The Career interviews are almost all the same; arrogant airheads that can't wait to go slice up the other tributes for fun. The tributes from three are very quiet. Now it's my turn.

I step carefully up to the comfy chair and sit as Caesar introduces me. I grin and wave politely at the audience and cameras. My palms are still slick with sweat and my heart pounds. With a million thoughts still racing through my head, the golden Caesar Flickerman asks me my first question.

"Quinn, what is the strangest thing about the Capitol to you? How is our magnificent city different to humble District 5?" he inquires. I think for a moment. I have to be honest...

"How big and clean everything is here," I answer. The audience chuckles.

"Is that so? We don't scare you with our styles and large buildings?" Flickerman says humorously. I have to laugh a little.

"Well, the styles are a bit weird, I'll admit, but your buildings are just wonderful. I've never seen anything like them before," I reply.

"Now, back at District 5, you must have some large buildings, no? After all, you are the power district and I'm sure you help the citizens of Panem with electricity somehow," Caesar says.

"We do have these large power plants there," I say.

"I'll bet you do if you have to provide so much power. And back at five, you must have some family."

Uh, oh. This is sketchy ground. Fingers crosses that I don't get too emotional!

"Yeah. I live with my parents and my brother and sister."

"That was your brother on reaping day, screaming for you, wasn't it?" Flickerman says sympathetically. I'm silent for a second. I clear my throat. I don't want to mention Cairn, but I must.

"Yes, yes it was."

"How old is he?"

"Just eighteen. His name's Cairn. If he were able, he would've volunteered for me," I say.

"Of course he would have. Do your other family members care for you the same way he does?" says Caesar. I look down at my hands and shake my head. "I'll bet he would've volunteered for you in a hearbeat. Now, how about your training score, hm? It was quite high for someone from your district. Were you pleased with it? Surprised?"

I grin, happy that he's changed subjects.

"I was very much surprised! I was really nervous about my score, but I'm glad it turned it out the way it did," I say. Caesar addresses the Capitol audience.

"We're just as excited as excited as Quinn is, aren't we?" I laugh casually as the people cheer loudly and scream.

"And because of this, this may be just gossip, but I've heard from a few unamed sources you have had an offer from Districts 1, 2, _and _4 to be allies." A few whispers and gasps can be heard. "Will you accept?" I sigh.

"I must decline," I say bravely. There is a mixed reaction from the crowd. Some are shouting and some are whistling in awe of my refusal.

"And why is that?" asks Flickerman curiously.

"Because I've already teamed up with somene else," I admit.

"And you would that be?"

"Well-" I'm cut off by a loud buzzer, signaling my interview is over.

"Oh! If only, if only..." Flickerman says disappointedly. "Best of luck, Quinn Delling, District 5 tribute!"

"Thank you," I mutter. However, not a soul can hear my thanks over the roar of the crowd. I click-clack my way back to my seat and Evander's name is called. I sit, thankful that part of the Games is over with.

""Evander," Flickerman starts, "you are just thirteen?"

"I am," Evander replies.

"Wow, you are _young, _my boy!" jokes Caesar. He chuckles along with the audience.

"Young and ready," says Evander seriously. Flickerman laughs awkwardly. Oh no...Evander's about to overdo himself.

"Tell me, what's it like being from the power district?"

"Boring as ever," scoffs Evander the Moron. "We have the same schedule every day that never changes. Who would want to live there?"

"So you don't like your district?" asks Caesar. My fellow tribute nods solemnly. Flickerman talks to the Capitol crowd for a moment.

"Well we sure enjoy it, don't we?" The people give shouts of agreement. "You provide our homes with electricity!" He turns back to Evander. "So if you could be from any district, which would it be?"

"District 1, 2, or 4," he answers without hesitation.

"And why is that?" Caesar inquires.

"First of all, their industries are far more interesting. We work in _power plants! _ Secondly, I would be much more powerful in these games."

"Then do you consider yourself a powerful sort of tribute of equal status to those from those districts?" Caesar says. The audience leans forward in their seats in anticipation.

"Yes, yes I do," drones Evander confidently. "It's so obvious that I am." I gasp. The Careers must be insulted. I glance at the tributes from one, two, and four. They look insulted and furious. Evander will die by the mighty blow of the Careers.

"Then considering your training score, are you angry that it was so low?" Flickerman wonders.

"I think it was completely unfair what the Gamemakers gave me. I deserved at least a ten, not a four! My spear throwing was clearly superior to my fellow tribute's-"

"But the real question is, are you prepared to face what awaits in the arena?" Flickerman interjects, stopping Evander from insulting me and revealing my secret of how I got a nine instead of my expected five or six.

"Definitely. I am totally prepared to win, become victor, and head back home."

"Speaking of home, do you have family counting on you?" adds Flickerman. Evander looses some of his haughtiness and suddenly looks very unsure of himself.

"My parents and three younger sisters," he replies.

But I can't listen any longer. I block out the rest of the interview. I hear Caesar Flickerman telling him good luck and the crowd's few cheers. Evander strides back to his seat next to mine, not realizing he just stanped the seal to his death sentence.

I sit dejectedly as I remember what tomorrow holds. The arena. The death of the beautified people sitting around me, and the lone victor that will emerge triumphant in the end.

"Yes, I am actually one of the most superior of them all," I hear a gruff voice say.

"That makes perfect sense, Phoenix," encourages Flickerman. "A ten in training? That's excellent."

I glance around during Phoenix's interview. Dazzle, the girl from one, is eyeing me jealously. So is Vivica from two. Why? Is it because I refused the offer to join their pack? Then Vivica points behind me, then crosses her arms. I look to to where she has gestured. Corodan staring at me smiling. His elbows are on his thighs, hands folded. I smile back. Then he grins and blushes pink. He mouths something to me.

_You look amazing._

_So do you, _I mouth back. And it's true. He's wearing a dark blue suit with a light blue tie that matches his bright eyes. His feet are shoved into uncomfortable looking white dress shoes. I look down at my shoes. Sparkly, purple, ridiculous high heels. I know how he feels.

The buzzer sounds, and Phoenix strides back to his seat with a murdurous gleam in his eyes. He gives me a look of pure hate and sits down in his chair. Then Tempest stands in all silver and sits for her interview in the front of the stage. She doesn't look frightened by the crowd or the mention of the offer from the Careers. Flickerman asks her if she will accept.

"No, I will not," she states immediately. "I don't need or desire their skills."

I admire her bold refusal. I would say the same if I had as much nerve. I can't afford to be a target; not with Cairn back home. Unfortunately, it seems two of the girls in the Careers already want me dead, along with Phoenix and Evander. Ugh, too many enemies!

I wait out the next few interviews impatiently. I'm waiting for Corodan's chance to speak. However, Rein must go first. I hear only snippets of her interview.

"Why do you believe you can win, Rein? What are your skills?" Flickerman inquires kindly.

"I'm very fast and have a way with certain...weapons that may give me an edge," she says.

Soon, Rein's buzzer goes off and it's Corodan's turn.

"Corodan, you're a strapping young fellow," Flickerman compliments. He turns to the Capitol audience for a response. "He is, isn't he?" There are many girls screaming and whistling for a second. Caesar turns back to Corodan. "You must have a girlfriend, no?"

"I guess I do, I mean, I like her and I think she's fallen for me, too," Corodan replies. I raise my eyebrows. I have to talk to him. Tonight.

A few ahhs and oohs come from the audience.

"Is that so? Who may that be?" presses Flickerman eagerly. Corodan shakes his head. "Come on, tell us her name!"

"I'm sorry, but I can't. It would be too much," says Corodan.

"Not even the first letter of her name?"

"No, I'm sorry."

"Oh, how disappointing! Let's switch subjects shall we?" says Caesar. They talk about Corodan's favorite Capitol food (sweet cinnamon buns) for a moment. Then Caesar says something I can't help but perk up to.

"Tell me, weren't you also requested by Districts 1, 2, and 4?"

"I was," Corodan says.

"Did you accept or decline?"

"I declined."

"Oh? Why?"

"The same reason as Tempest, but also in a different context."

"How is that?" says Caesar, evidently interested in my ally's reason why.

"I've teamed up with a tribute that's just as deadly as any District 1, 2, or 4 tribute," Corodan announces.

"Was their score as high as yours?" Flickerman asks, trying to figure out who his ally is.

"Should've been higher," says Corodan.

Then the buzzer sounds, ending the interview with the crowd's rowdy roaring cheer. I'm pleased with what Corodan has said about me.

Suddenly, there's sick feeling in the bottom of my stomach. I think about it as we stand and the anthem plays. I realize there can only be one winner. The notion finally sinks in. It clicks in my mind. Corodan is just as much my enemy as a Career or any other tribute. Maybe even more.

We exit the stage in an orderly fashion. Maelia, Ner, Imperia, and Ajax are backstage waiting for Evander and I. My mentors and the stylists chat about how well my interview went as we all ride up together in the elevator.

I immediately race to my room. I shower as quickly as possible. As soon as I'm sure everyone is in bed and close to dropping off to sleep, I sneak up to the twelfth floor to talk to Corodan. I find him already on the roof, wating for me. He's sitting in one of the chairs from the first night we were up here. As soon as he sees me, he stands. We stare at each other for a moment, not knowing what to do. Corodan then comes to me and takes my hand in his.

"You looked...stunning tonight," he says quietly. I smile.

"So did you," I say back. "Light blue is definitely your color." He chuckles. It soon fades away and turns into a deep sigh.

"Tomorrow is the day," says Corodan. I can't bear to look up at his face right now. The realization thoughts are still fresh in my mind.

_He's more of an enemy then all of the rest, _whispers a voice in the back of my mind. _He'll never survive..._

"That's what we need to talk about," I reply. Corodan seems confused.

"What do you mean? We're still allies, right?" he says. I don't respond. "Right?"

"There can only be one victor. There are so many innocent kids that have been sacrificed in the Games. I've seen it come down to two tributes. Tributes that are allies. They've had to turn on each other in the end," I say, my voice choking on the words 'in the end.'

"That won't happen to us," Corodan protests unconvincingly. I shake my head. We go into the middle of the garden and sit on the ground.

"Corodan-"

"No, you can't leave me alone out there!" he cries roughly. "Look, without you, I'm going to die. Honestly, I can't do this without some help! Be that help."

"But we can only go so far before we have to split up," I say.

"Please!" he pleads. "Just please...stay with me. At least in the beginning."

"If I could, I would stay with you forever," I whisper. Now he knows that I feel the same way about him. He just looks at me. Then our faces draw near each other and our lips meet. I kiss him back, knowing this is the last time this sort of thing will ever happen to me.

When we pull apart, our faces stay close to each other.

"You really mean that?" says Corodan softly.

"I do."

"If you really feel that way, then stay with me...at least in the beginning," he begs.

"I will. I promise," I say, meaning every word I say to him. We don't talk for a long time. I sit next to him, my head on his shoulder. Our hands clasped together.

"We need to sleep," I say quietly.

"I don't know if I'll be able to sleep tonight," he replies. But he lets go and we both stand. We kiss once more, then hug each other tightly.

"Goodnight," I say.

"Try to sleep well," he replies. I nod, let go of his hands, and leave.

In the elevator, I wonder what will happen tomorrow. The 66th Hunger Games will officially begin. Many of us will die on the first day. Only one of us will live...but I know I can trust Corodan. He's all I have here in the Capitol.

I trudge into my room and climb into bed, too tired to change into pajamas. I lay there, dozing in and out for hours. I have many strange, terryfying nightmares about the Games and what the arena holds. I see Coroda and I hunted by mutts and Careers and killed, Cairn bursting out of nowhere and taking a blade for me, and Tempest with her sword poised inches above my neck, ready to stab me dead.

I'm already awake when Ambrosia steps in.

"Today is the day," she chirps glumly. Thankfully, she doesn't say much else. Imperia arrives and gives me a thin shirt and shorts to wear. She leads me out to the elevator and ride to the roof. A hovercraft pops out of thin air.

As I grab hold of the lowered ladder, I glance around quickly and spot the place Corodan and I sat last night. Memories...just memories now...and I will never see this place again.

I try to climb, but smething freezes me in place. The ladder repels back into the hovercraft, lifting me up through the doors. A man in a white coat stands there with a large needle. My eyes widen.

"Don't worry," he tells me. Too late. "This is just going to place the tracker in your arm. Please try not to squirm."

I want to point out that I am already still, but he quickly inserts the tracker. I wince in pain. I have come to this conclusion: I don't like needles. The machine unfreezes me and I rub my arm in the place the needle went in.

Imperia is brought up and an Avox shows us where breakfast is being held. I'm trembling I'm so nervous, but I pile food on my plate anyway. I fill it with all my favorite foods; bacon, biscuits with sausage gravy, strawberries, yellow melon, honey butter croissants, cheese, onion, and bacon croissants, and the cinnamon buns that Corodan loves. I drink loads of water to make sure I'm hydrated for whatever weather the arena will have.

After about thirty minutes of riding in the hovercraft, Imperia and I are deposited in the arena. We are now underneath it, the place that I will die, in the Catacombs. Imperia leads me to my stockyard, or the Launch Room as the Capitol calls it. I will be the only tribute to ever use it.

I shower and wash the taste of the Capitol food off my tongue. I'll be in the arena soon and I don't want to be reminded of anything in that wretched city except those few moments with Corodan.

Imperia brushes, dries, and pulls back my hair in a simple ponytail. Soon enough, the clothes arrive. All the tributes wear the same outfit in the arena. Imperia doesn't even know what the clothing looks like. I'm put in a dark evergreen long-sleeved shirt, a soft, light brown leather jacket, black cloth pants, thick back socks, and brown leather shoes. I move around to make sure the clothes are easy to walk and run in. The clothes are comfortable. I instantly sit on the couch and sip more water. Imperia comes and sits next to me.

"Quinn?" she says. I don't respond. "You can win. You're good with a bow, and from what I can tell, fast."

"Thank you, but I can't. I'm just going to try my best to keep Corodan alive," I reply. "We need each other. And if I don't get back to Cairn...I know he'll go crazy if I'm lost to this monstrous arena."

I don't say anything else.

A voice tells me that it's time to go into the launch tube.

"You are the victor, Quinn," Imperia tells me. I hug her and step onto the metal plate. The glass encloses me. I stand tall, ready to face my death. It's dark. But soon the glass is gone and the sunlight blinds me. The arena.

45


	2. Part 2: The Real Games, chapter 1

**Hey people of FF! **** sorry I never left an A/N at the beginning of the first part...this is my first ever fanfiction and I'm not used to the website just yet. I really hope you like the first part! Sorry it was so long. From now on I'm dividing the parts into chapters. So this first chapter of part 2 will be called "My Dead Ally." Bet you can't guess what happens...but maybe you can. **** please review and get more people reading! I'll be signing off as SW for songwriter16 (my username). REVIEW! **** please, please, please...You people who read this are awesome. Remember, if you want the next chapter, you have to make my story get at least five to ten reviews. **

**Sing Out! 3 **

**SW**

**Disclamer: I do not have the rights to the Hunger Games (which are absolutely amazing books by the way****) **

**PART 2: THE REAL GAMES**

Chapter 1: My Dead Ally

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the 66th Hunger Games begin!" announces the voice of Claudius Templesmith. And the sixty-second countdown begins. I have one minute to figure out where I need to go.

The gold Cornucopia gleams brightly, piled high with various supplies and weapons of all shapes and sizes. There are dark green 20 ft steel walls all around us. They trap us here. Is that the Gamemakers plan this year? To keep us all in one confined space and have us kill each other quickly? I realize it must not be, because I briskly turn on my metal plate to see about five ten-foot wide openings. What are we in?

I look around the semi-circle of tributes and spot Corodan three people to my right. He points at the pile, then at the back opening behind us. I nod. I get the supplies at we run for it.

I turn back to the pile and get in a running stance. I spot my bow and arrows near the very edge of the pile. I know where I'm sprinting.

Ten seconds...nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one...BONG!

I leap off my plate before anyone else. I sprint to the pile, grab my bow and quiver of arrows, snatch up a sword for Corodan, and two backpacks full of supplies. I sprint past the other tributes before they see who I am or what I have in my hands. Corodan meets me halfway to the archway and takes a pack and the sword.

We're close the back exit when I sense someone following us. I whip around, arrow pulled back. It's Cutter, the boy from one. I release the arrow almost immediately. It sticks into his upper thigh. I pull Corodan away from the bloodbath. We turn left, then right, and go past another opening to the Cornucopia.

There's a wheezing coming from Corodan. He's not breathing normally. We turn right. I look at my ally. Red is soaking his shirt and there's a knife handle sticking out of his lower right chest. No! It can't end like this!

I look for a place to stop. There's a narrow entrance to our right, almost invisible to people who don't pay attention. I pull him into the small alclove. Once we're in, he collapses to the ground. His pack and sword go down with a clatter. He's sprawled on his back on the grass. I sit on my knees beside him and carefully take off his leather jacket.

"Oh gosh, gosh, gosh," I panic, trying not to curse under my breath. "Corodan, please don't leave me! Stay awake! Keep your eyes open!" I start digging through my pack. The knife wound is bleeding even more. He pulls it out of his chest in a cry of pain. This brings tears to my eyes.

"Quinn," he chokes calmly, "Quinn, you're fine."

"But you're not," I protest tearily, still clawing through my bag. My worst nightmare is coming to life.

I pull out a cloth and hold it to his wound. He coughs blood. Now I know it's bad.

Corodan holds up the bloody knife that pierced his chest. Cutter must have thrown it when I wasn't looking. Tears drip down my face. I put the knife away from us.

"Shhhh..." comforts Corodan. He lifts up a hand and brushes the tears off my cheeks. "Don't cry. You're alright."

"But you're not," I repeat.

"I will be," he whispers. I cry even harder.

"I'm so sorry! I would've died in your place any day," I sob.

"No," murmurs Corodan, still wheezing and sputtering. "There's nothing you can do. You tried your best. I'm just glad I'm spending my last moments with you."

I know he knows how we truly feel about each other.

I wipe the blood from his mouth. He looks me square in the eye and puts a hand on my cheek. I lean down and kiss him and he kisses me back. It would be more romantic if this wasn't the situation. We're in the Hunger Games and nothing romantic will ever happen here.

When we stop and I pull away, Corodan's hand is still on my face. I hold it there. He's struggling to breathe even more.

"I-I love y-you..." he struggles to say.

"I love you," I say back. That's the last time I see him smile. I smile back through my tears.

"Get out of here, Quinn. Win. Your brother will see you again," he says.

"I promise I will," I sob. He pants for air and his other hand grabs mine.

"I wish I c-could stay w-with you...forever," he mutters. And with that he takes his last breath and goes still.

And that's when my emotions flip out. I wail and put my head on his shoulder. I bawl and hold his lifeless hand. Corodan Mellark is gone; the first victim of these barbaric Games.

I have to keep my promise to Corodan. I WILL win! For him. For the love that was lost.

Still crying, I pack up everything from his bag into mine. I slip his sword through my belt loop and pick up my gear. I kneel over him and close his glassy eyes, then press my lips to his dead ones. Then I kick the knife that took my ally's life into the corner of the alclove. I never want to see that wretched thing again.

With one last look at Corodan, I string an arrow and exit the place where he died. Tears still pour down my face like small waterfalls.

I have to focus. I have to find a water source.

I go back the way I came. I must risk passing the entrance to the Cornucopia. I can't go back past the alclove. It's the only way I can forget about what just happened for a moment. But that is not possible. I'll remember Corodan Mellark, the boy I loved, until the day I die. And that day could be today if I'm not careful.

I go past the entrance I came out of the first time and go left. I find myself on a straight shot down somewhere. I almost turn back, but I take my chances and follow the maze. It takes me about a half hour to get to the end.

At the end of the path is the exit out. In front of me lays a quiet sort of meadow and a gigantic mansion on one side. A large, blue sparkling lake rests to my right on the manicured grounds. On the far side of that is a gated of area with trees. Beyond that is a dense forest.

I glance to my left past the house and spot more trees. What could be in that forest? I take a chance and make my way over to the thick foliage, darting in and out of large bushes fixed to look like different animals.

I enter the forest and walk for about ten minutes until I find a medium-sized pond. Water! This should be my primary source. I find a big bottle for water and fill it almost up to the brim. I also find a small bottle of iodine and put a few drops in.

As I wait for the water to purify, I sort through my pack. There's enough food here for two people! Always a good thing because I have no idea how to hunt. There's another bottle for water, a black blanket and a sleeping bag, rope, a plastic container I can use for collecting rainwater (if necessary), matches, material for wounds, and my food. There are crackers, dried beef strips, a small bit of bread, and some dried fruit. It's enough to last quite awhile if I don't make any more allies.

My water should be done setting now that I'm done with my supplies. I take long sips of water and stuff it in my black pack with the rest of my things. I still possess my bow and arrow and the sword...Corodan's sword...Corodan...he would be carrying it right now if it wasn't for that boy Cutter. Oh Corodan...

I start sobbing again but make myself quit it. I can't stay here in the forest. I'd have to be able to climb trees if I wanted a safe place to stay, and I'm not able to. I look at the grand mansion ahead of me. I can stay there tonight. There might be beds! And there might be running water. That would provide some comfort...but what if some sort of mutt lives in there? If so, I'll try to find a place to hide here in the woods.

I pick up my gear, string an arrow, and creep out of the woods. Once I'm at the edge, I cautiously scan the area for other tributes. I haven't heard any cannons so the bloodbath at the Cornucopia must not be over yet.

I find the front doors and push them open. I raise my bow and arrow and step in. I expect to see furniture, but there's none in sight. I glance up to find a ginormus crystal chandelier hanging from the very top floor ceiling. I see the different levels of the mansion. There must be at least twelve.

_What's a good place to hide? _I think. _What's a place that someone would have a hard time finding? _

Then I think of the roof. The roof is flat and there are tall walls surrounding it. It would tire other tributes out to climb the stairs so high and it'd be easy to defend myself.

I search for an elevator, but fail. There's none around. I guess I'll have to take the stairs. I start up and count each floor.

On the 12th level, the cannons sound. **Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom**...ten dead on the first day. One of those people is Corodan. I sill ache from his death. I'll cry more later. First, I've got to get to the roof.

After climbing sixteen stories, I reach the roof. The sun is beginning to dip on the horizon and the temperature is dropping. Soon, the dead tribute's faces will light up the night sky.

I set up my sleeping bag and pack. I place my bow and arrows in the bag with me in case of an attack. I wiggle into the sleeping bag and place the sword outside next to me.

The sword...Corodan's sword...Corodan...

I mourn my ally, bawling, curled up hugging my weapon in my sleeping bag. I look down at my hands. What is that dark stuff? I gasp when I realize I still have Corodan's blood on my fingers.

I squeal and scramble out of my bag and pull out my water.

As I'm frantically washing them off, I see something light brown sticking out of my pack. I screw the cap on my water bottle and take the leather material out.

"His jacket," I whisper hoarsely. I hug Corodan's jacket as if it's him. I throw off my own and stuff it back into my black bag along with my water. I put on Corodan's jacket and zip it up. It's a couple of sizes too big for me (he was about Cairn's height).

I slide into my sleeping bag and bury my face in my hands. The coat smells like cinnamon...like Corodan. I must've packed it up without noticing.

Suddenly, the anthem begins to play. I peek my my head out of my sleeping bag to see those who have died.

First are Bronze and Xanthe from three, a rusty haired boy with the number 5, Kember from seven, both Polyester and Satin from District 8, the girl Sage from eleven, and, finally, worst of all, Corodan.

_Wait...a boy with red hair from District 5? EVANDER IS DEAD? OH MY GOSH EVANDER IS DEAD! _I think. _I warned him not to try to be a Career! He just didn't want to listen to me...I'm sorry he's gone. He was a pain in the neck, but...gone?_

I'm not too saddened by Evander's death, to be honest, but I feel bad that he's no longer here. I should be crying over him too, but I'm not. After all, he's was from my district. Corodan wasn't from my district and I'm positively distraught over him...but that's a different story.

I fall asleep with tears streaming down my face, wondering if tomorrow is the day that I will die.

**NOOOOOOOOOOO! Corodan's dead! :'( wahhh! I loved writing for Corodan. I tried to make him somewhat like Peeta since he's related to him, but if I let Corodan live any longer, it would've been too much like the Hunger Games. And Evander? I wasn't planning on killing him off at first, but I didn't want him sticking around much longer. I really loved writing the insult scenes with him and Quinn. And when she poured rice and stew on him in the first part? Loved that! **** make sure to review or you won't get the next chapter...**

**SING OUT! 3**

**SW**


	3. The Real Games, chapter 2

**Hello readers! **** thanks for sticking with me and Quinn for this long. A special shout out to Buttons301 for following me. You may be the only one, but it means a lot to me. :D you're awesome! **

**Just so you have it, here's a list of all the tributes. BBD means bloodbath death. C means Career. The top name is the boy, the bottom is the girl.**

**DISTRICT 1**

**Cutter, age 18, weapon: knife, C**

**Dazzle, age 17, weapon: sword, C**

**DISTRICT 2**

**Zale, age 15, weapon: spear, C**

**Vivica, age 15, weapon: spear, C**

**DISTRICT 3**

**Bronze, age 13, BBD**

**Xanthe, age 16, BBD**

**DISTRICT 4**

**Dorian, age 16, weapon: strength/hand-to-hand combat, C**

**Pacifica, age 14, weapon: spear, C**

**DISTRICT 5**

**Evander, age 13, BBD**

****Quinn, age 16, weapon: bow and arrows** **

**DISTRICT 6**

**Phoenix, age 17, weapon: any, C**

**Tempest, age 14, weapon: sword**

**DISTRICT 7**

**Storm, age 18, weapon: axe**

**Kember, age 15, BBD**

**DISTRICT 8**

**Polyester, age 16, BBD**

**Satin, age 18, BBD**

**DISTRICT 9**

**Rye, age 13, BBD**

**Cerys, age 17, weapon: diversions**

**DISTRICT 10**

**Taheton, age 14, BBD**

**Adiel, age 15, weapon: whip**

**DISTRICT 11**

**Ash, age 17, weapon: evade**

**Sage, age 17, BBD**

**DISTRICT 12**

**Corodan, age 16, BBD**

**Rein, age 12, weapon: snares**

**There's all the tributes! Remember to review review review! If you like it, tell your friends!**

**I'm sorry I haven't updated in so long. I've had horrible writer's block.**

**Also, to answer someone's question on whether or not Quinn will fall in love again, the answer is yes, she will. However, you'll have to wait and see who it is! ;)**

**Sing out! 3**

**SW**

Chapter 2: The Muttation of the Blue Lake

Nightmares are more prominent tonight, showing me Corodan dying repeatedly and Cutter throwing knives at us as we're strapped down to a wall. Just as a knife reaches Corodan's chest, I wake.

My eyes fly open, the image of Corodan's dead body plastered permanently in my mind.

My bow and arrows and the sword are still here, along with my pack. I'm still wearing Corodan's jacket. I'll keep it on. It's cold today and I need the extra warmth.

I sit up slowly and drink some of my precious water. My whole body aches from crying. His death makes my head heavy with misery.

I tell myself to eat a cracker and a couple of pieces of dried fruit. Then I sip more water. Today I might go back down my pond and make sure I have enough water to last me a few days.

I suddenly have a dangerous curiosity to find out what my fellow tributes are up to.

I string an arrow and peek over the walls on the side of the roof.

There's nothing in sight except the lake (which I've deemed the Blue Lake) and the fenced orchard. It's almost too quiet for my taste.

Then at the edge of the maze, something stirs. It's another tribute. I can't tell exactly who it is, but I believe it is Cerys, the girl from nine. She was soundless and forgettable during the interviews. I think she's around my age. Sixteen? Seventeen?

She goes to the lake and throws down her pack. She gulps water, sending ripples across the Blue Lake.

My arrow is loaded, but I don't want to kill her. I can't bring myself to shoot. But I shot Cutter didn't I? Wait, that was for defense purposes only. And he killed Corodan!

Wait...what is that?

There are bubbles forming in the middle of the lake. Cerys doesn't notice.

The middle of the lake starts to turn black. Something ejected it into the water. It must be an animal. It moves toward Cerys, sending black ink cascading across the water, turning the Blue Lake into the Ink Lake.

I need to tell her. I don't want to kill her, but I certainly don't want her to be killed by a monster.

Just as I'm about to yell to her, when the monster reaches her. She looks up, aware of the black water, but it's too late. The monster seizes her head with its enormus black mouth and pulls her under with a loud SPLASH! I see flashes of fangs and hear muffled screams. There's splashing and thrashing and ebony fins sticking out of the water.

Once red floods the lake, I duck down and squeeze my eyes shut. After a few minutes, a cannon goes off.

I stay huddled on the roof until the hovercraft that picks up her body (or what's left of it) is gone. I shudder. More nightmares.

I sit on the roof, rearranging my pack. No going down there today, no way. I'm still shaken from witnessing a mutt death.

But I can't stay here on the roof for the entire Games. Someone is bound to find me.

However, I stay there a lot of the day. I'm scared to hide out in the forest, as dense as the bushes and brush are. I just need to suck it up and get out there. I'm such a wuss!

The Careers are most likely hunting. I don't know if they're in the maze still. It would be easier if they were.

I was lucky enough to find my way out. There could be many more places to exit.

I keep watch for more tributes over the roof wall.

Around what I'm guessing to be late afternoon, I hear voices. I scan the area ad spot a group of tributes coming out of the maze. The Careers.

"Water!" one exclaims. I hear shouts of relief and excitement. Everyone except Phoenix rushes over to the Ink Lake and hastily starts drinking. I do my best not to gasp when I see the black ink drifting from the middle of the lake.

"Hey, what's that?" declares one girl (Vivica?).

All stop and back away as the mutt moves toward them.

A few lean over stupidly and watch. The ugly head of the monster pops out from beneath the water. Unfortunately, the Careers have good reflexes and manage to move out of the biting range.

The mutt startles me.

I've got to be more careful. I almost shot an arrow at the Careers! If I shoot at them, they'll know I'm up here observing.

I breathe a quiet sigh of relief that the arrow is still strung on my bow.

"I know what that is," one Career says. It's a boy. "We have them in deep sea fishing spots back at home. They're called pirahna mutts. They only feed on human heads."

Pirahna mutts that feed on human heads? Ugh, mental note not to go anywhere near the Ink Lake.

I wonder how many more muttations are in this arena...

"Let's go check out that mansion!" I hear one say. My eyes widen in alarm as they start towards the house.

I panic. I gather up my gear and sling the sword through my belt loop. I have to hide somewhere.

I start down the stairs.

I'm on the thirteenth floor when the Career's voices echo up from the foyer. I glance around quickly for a hallway. I run into a hallway as silently as possible and go into a room. I shut the door softly. Thankfully, the door doesn't squeak.

The room is painted a dark gray with oak wood boards for a floor. There's nowhere to hide. I slump agains the back wall and fling off my pack. It jostles something on the wall. I move my pack and examine the wall. My hands feel around and find a small handle that's not visible when you first enter. I slide back a secret panel. It's just big enough for me to slip through. I peer into the opening and find a staircase that goes both ways.

Going in is a huge risk in itself. What could live in that stairway? Are there booby traps on the steps?

I decide to take the chance. The Careers will have a difficult time finding this place. A perfect place to hide.

I shove my pack, sword, and bow and arrows through. I follow my gear into the stairway and slide the panel shut.

I go down the steps with caution.

I arrive at the bottom of the steps to find a dark room. This must be the basement. If a mansion mutt lives anywhere, it's here. I hurry back up the stairs and stop at the next door. I really hope this is the first floor.

I press my ear to the door, listening for voices. The wood is so thick, I couldn't hear a firebomb being dropped. I inhale deeply as I realize I must open it to learn what is behind it.

I peek out of the crack of the open door. Nothing.

I open the door just wide enough to see that the front doors are still slightly ajar. I smile. I can escape.

I sprint out of the mansion and don't stop until I'm in the woods at my pond.

I fill up my other water bottle and drink more. I glance around at the trees. Where am I supposed to sleep?

I decide to search for a place with thick foliage for cover. It's a good thing my clothing sort of blends in with the colors of the forest.

I trudge off deeper into the woods. I consider a patch completely covered with leaves and such, but what if someone (or some_thing) _steps on me?

I come across a long hollow log which most likely an old tree trunk. I wiggle inside to discover the log is wide and long enough to let me completely stretch out and almost sit up all the way.

I take out my sleeping bag and tuck myself in. I glance at the openings at either end of the log. They are completely covered by forest plant life.

The anthem plays and I crawl out the end.

Only one face lights the sky tonight. Cerys. I feel as if it's my fault that she died.

That makes it two people I basically killed. Cerys and...Corodan.

I sigh and quickly snuggle up into my sleeping bag. I zip up my (formerly Corodan's) jacket and cry some more. I've been doing that a lot lately, but who can blame me?

I sob for Corodan, my lost friend and the one whom I loved, and my brother Cairn.

I remember the times that he cared for me when no one else in the world did. There was this one night when I was a small girl and I had just had a nightmare. I believe it was about Peacekeepers and the Reaping that was to come later in my life. I went to my mother, but she just told me to 'shut up and go back to sleep.' But Cairn came in and sang this lullabye. I can still hear his little-boy voice singing the song.

_From the hills of the country_

_To the leaves on a tree,_

_There's a sound that echoes so loud._

_And it grows and grows till the grass is blown,_

_From the music that plays in the night._

_From the stars in the sky,_

_To the cities bright,_

_There's a feeling I won't leave behind._

_And it grows and grows until you come home,_

_So I'll leave you alone._

_From the clouds so gray,_

_Where the children play,_

_I'll be with you until my end._

_We will live in a house that's somewhere else_

_And we'll escape from this cell._

I always thought that the last verse was talking about leaving District 5 and being free in the woods. I guess being free of District 5 wasn't what I used to imagine. Being free comes with a cost. I guess the Games is the cost of being free from that miserable district. And I'm not with Cairn.

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter! I don't know when I'll update next. I'm very busy with my other fanfic, the Narnian story ****The Five Children****. Please read reivew and favorite this story and check out my other fanfic! (:**

**Love all those who reiviewed and following! (:**

**Sing Out! (:**

**SW**


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